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1 


The  Children's  Friend 

Organ  of  the  Primary  Associations  of 

the  Church  of  Jesus  Christ 

of  Latter-day  Saints 


Edited  and  published  by  the  General  Board 


VOLUME  XII 


THE  DESERET  NEWS 

Salt  Lake  City,  Utah 

1913 


0S3H7C  3.G 


HARVARD  COLLEGE  LIBRARY 
JUL    1    1914 

CHARLES  ELLIOTT  PERKINS 
MEMORIAL  COLLECTION 


\ 

4  \ 


■<.    \ 


CONTENTS. 


.    POETRY. 

An    October   Walk 539 

i^\re  You  a  Goop 573 

Arrow  and  the  Song 577 

Baby's  New  Year   36 

Bravest    Smile,   The 56 

Brown's   Example    167 

Boy  That  Can,  The 226 

Boy  Who  Never  Told  a  Lie 408 

Barbarous   Chief,  The 466 

Books  are  Yours 560 

Children  That  Are  Wanted 113 

Concert  Recitation    267 

Comparison,  A   511 

Dinah     203 

Donkey's  Ears,  The 297 

Do     Something     for     Somebody 

Quick  460 

Door  of  the  House,  The 576 

Forest   Hymns    232 

Five  Years  Old 277 

First    Primary    Teachers'    Class, 

The  391 

Forget   524 

Feast  Time  of  the  Year,  The 61Q 

General   Washington    409 

Gold  Plated  Boy,  A 520 

Happy  New  Year 46 

Home   Picture,  A Ill 

Homeless  Bad  Thought,  A 280 

Here's  to  The  Boy 342 

His  Fur  Coat 378 

Hickory  Nut,  The 542 

How  Doth  the  Little  Busy  Bee.. 574 

His  Just  Deserts 526 

If.    If    110 

If  I   197 

If  I  Have  Spoken 410 

In  the  Looking  Glass 459 

January    40 

Johnny  and  the  Rain 202 

I^incoln 75 

Little  Peeds 115 

Lowly  But  Inspirfng 159 

Little  Tree,  The 138 

Little  Girl  of  Long  Ago.  A 204 

Little   Seamstress,  A 208 

Little  Sermon,  A 222 

Little   Things    340 

Little  Snorer,  The 380 

Lucky • 440 

Little   Builders   633 

Little  By  Little 634 

My  Questions  223 


May    242 

Month  of  May,  The 257 

Maiden  May 261 

Marjorie  and  Major 268 

My  Business   283 

Ministry  of  Flowers. . , 299 

My  Old  Bible  ' 579 

My  Friend    635 

Merry  Christmas   638 

New  Year's  Greeting 16 

New  Year,  The 27 

New  Year 30 

None  So  Deaf  as  Those  Who. . .  .522 

Not  Too  Late  528 

Opportunity  47 

One  More  Step 48 

Our  Heroes  52 

Oh,  The  Pretty  Brave  Things... 259 

Out  in  the  Fields 516 

Our  Lives  are  Songs 528 

October   Party    535 

Only  Fooling 618 

Poem  for  February 100 

Patchwork  Quilt,  The 256 

Prayers  for  Strength 285 

Poem  for  October 569 

Popcorn  Song  and  Recitation 631 

Poor  at  Christmas,.  The 631 

Roadside  Lesson,  A 166 

Recipe  for  Sanity,  A 360 

Secrecy    77 

Says  The  Chick 77 

Something  Better 80 

Sengs  of  the  Grass  Blades 263 

Spring  and  Summer , 309 

Somebody  Cares 330 

Some  Pansies  494 

Struggle  On 636 

Success  and  Luck 637 

There's  Nobody  Else 51 

Things  That  Never  Die 172 

Two  Seekers,  The 229 

True  Worth  Is  In  Being 411 

Three  Gates  of  Gold 412 

Three  Little  Pussy  Cats 518 

Tw,o  Ways  of  Getting  Up 519 

Thanksgiving   Acrostic    593 

Vacation    296 

Voice  From  October,  A 543 

Washing  Dishes 57 

Washington   66 

Words  That  Come,  The 163 

Way  of  the  World,  The 170 

When  Godfrey  Grows 193 

We  Are  Building  Every  Day....27U 


IV 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


What  They  Lost 309 

What  the  Little  Things  Said.... 343 
Who  Will  Join 461 

STORIES. 

At  the  Turn  of  the  Road 5 

At  the  Old  Mill 33 

An  Unexpected  Peacemaker 140 

An  Inheritance  427 

An  Astonished  Conductor 493 

Ambition  of  John  Collins,  The.. 562 
Battle  That  Made  Man  of  Trump.   17 

Bob's  Ideas   181 

Best  Kind  of  a  Joke,  The 182 

Boy   Samuel,  The 340 

Bargain  Is  a  Bargain,  A .369 

Balkey   388 

Bad-Tempered  Elephant,  A 433 

Billy   482 

Bad  Example,  A 495 

Brindle's    Visit    . . . .' 506 

Boy  That  Would  Not  Give  Up,  A. 541 

Boss  Harry 544 

Books  as  Our  Mutual  Friends. . .  .551 

Bessie's  Birthday  Inspiration 594 

Composition  on  George  Washing- 
ton, A 74 

Change  of  Mind,  A 146 

Change  of  Atmosphere,  A 152 

Coward  of  the  School,  The 264 

Carrie's  Composite  Expression.  ..435 

Control  of  Temper 467 

Chick's  Stepmother 508 

Courtesy  and  Success 492 

Choosing 537 

Child  at  the  Window,  The 559 

Dearest  Valentine,  The 68 

Dusty  Surprise,  A 97 

Dave's  Experiment   198 

Donald's  Vacation 269 

Duty  First   302 

Dauprhter  Worth  Having,  A 318 

Don't  Act  a  Lie 364 

Fred 373 

Francis    Leaven    '536 

Go-Carts  and  Spinning  Wheels. . .  67 

Grandmother's  Mascot,  The 131 

Great  Circus  Parade,  The 262 

Greta's  Fourth  of  July.  The 361 

Grandma's   Company    365 

Gold  Basket,  The... 37S 

Gingerbread  and  Spices 386 

Grandmother's  Story  '..431 

Good  Manners 489 

Gods  Sec  Everywhere,  The 499 

How  the  Dolls  Helped  Isabelle..  37 

How  Books  Grow 41 

How  Fred  Won  a  Friend 43 


How  to  Save  Time 71 

Harry's  Two  Losses 76 

Her  Father's  Help 91 

Helping  His  Mother 107 

Helpful  Friends   141 

Humble.  Teacher,  A 157 

How  May  Used  Her  Strength 187 

Hero  of  the  Tenements,  The 238 

How  They  Kept  Still 247 

How  Peter  Named  Himself 258 

Honesty  of  Eleanor,  The 374 

Happy  Hallowe'en    561 

Home  Made  Flowerpots 567 

How  David  Carried  the  Supplies. 613 

He  Used  His   Opportunity 673 

Harold's   Promise    675 

In  Chloe's  Chariot 310 

In  a  Minute 491 

Joan's   Burglar    10 

Japanese  Girls'  Festival,  The 12 

Jock's  Lil  Boy 24 

Jesus  as  a   Boy 345 

Johnny's  Recitation 450 

Johnny's  Christmas  Trousers 650 

Keesa  Doahby's  Christmas  Song. 662 

Keeping  Christmas   666 

Little    Princess   Wisla 

1,  63,  123,  180,  236, 

292,  336,  355,  419,  475,  531,  587,  643 

Little  Louis  Cataret 19 

Little  Boy  Who  Tried  to  Help...  136 

Little  Corners  150 

Luck  and  Labor 207 

Lost  Hour,  The 255 

Loose  Ends  260 

Little  German  Boy 300 

Little  Left  Over  Doll 547 

Little  Rosemary's  Eyes 553 

Lamb  That  Ran  Away,  The 558 

Motto  of  the  Black  Knight,  The. .  84 

Miss  Martha's  Discovery 89 

Morning  Glory  Reformation 144 

Mud's  Peculiarity  189,  243 

Many  Lives  at  Stake 294 

Marjorie's    Lesson    316 

Millie's   Temptation    381 

Me   Too    495 

Mind  the  Power  of  Man 580 

New   Fangled   Notion,  The 194 

Not  Naughty  But  Foolish 211 

Noniother    Land    359 

Nasturtium    Seeds,    The 443 

Not  Ashamed    540 

Nicodemus     608 

Old   Doll,  The 129 

Our  Work  Is  Never  in  Vain 225 

One    Day's    Fun 303 

Over  the  Left 375 

Oil  Yourself  a  Little 463 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


On    the    Peculiarities 505 

On  the  Main  Line 647 

Procrastinating  Polly 72 

Parlor  Hen,  The 81 

Pump  Station  Fire,  The 320 

Poor   Mary    346 

Patsy  and   the   Policeman 367 

Peter    486 

Preparation  for  Winter 599 

Pansy 665 

Queer  Comrades   135 

Robert's  Glad  Day 98 

Reuben's    Industry    199 

Roly  Poly    301 

Real  True  Story,  A 503 

Ruth's  Favorite  Recreation 539 

Robbie     556 

Real  Story  611 

Seventy  Per  Cent 292 

Starting  Place,  The 305 

Surety,  The   371 

Stolen  Blue  Dress,  The 377 

Sale  of  David,  The 423 

Struggles    446 

Sea  Gulls  and  Crickets 591 

Several  Inches    601 

Snow  Man .668 

Story  of  Sparkle 672 

Teddy's    Orphan    Asylum 39 

Talking  Does  Not  Help  Trouble.  105 

Thumb's  Witness,  The 126 

Tommy's  Crackers    133 

Try  First    209 

Training  for  What? 285 

Truth  Saves  a  Life,  The 376 

Two  Playhouses,  The 428 

Tried  and  Proven 479 

Table    Manners    ..497 

Teaching  Manners    515 

Thurlow   Weed's    Boyhood 543 

Tree  That  Preached,  The 619 

Two  Ways  of  Travel 669 

Uncle  Dan's  Cure 436 

Uncle    Ralph's    Brownie 483 

Visiting  th«  Sick  79 

Worthless   Bobby    28 

Woman's   Courage,   A 38 

When  Tempted  to  Play  the  Cow-   . 

ard 55 

Wise  Choice,  A 73 

Where  They  Met  the  Three  Sis- 
ters     142 

Wanted,  An  Ostrich   Plume 248 

Wrong   Dinner   Pail,   The 251 

What  are  the  Dandelions 270 

Whose  Fault  Was  It 311 

Whole  World  Akin,  The 438 

Weeds     That     Bothered     Dora, 
The 441 


What  To  Do  With  a  Bad  Tem- 
per     465 

Wonderful   Night,  A 657 

Youth  of  Thomas  Edison 205 

Zada  and  Goo-Goo 31 

OFFICERS'  DEPARTMENT. 

Art  of  Keeping  Young,  The 49 

Another  Old  Man 101 

Annual    Report   of   The    Primary 

Association    399 

Condensed  Report  of  the  Annual 

Convention     394 

Don't  Snub  Children ,...  49 

Domestic   Science 218 

Fun  Is  a  Necessity 47 

Great   in   Service 49 

Hand  Work 219 

Instructions  to  Primary  Officers. 512 

Jesus    ; 103 

June  Convention    273 

Jack-o'-Lantern  Party   629 

Lesson  Development    216 

Librarians,  Stake  and  Local 628 

Music   216 

New  Plan  for  1913 46 

Note  to  Primary  Officers 325 

Note    to    Presidents    and     Secre- 
taries     330 

Notice   to   Presidents 627 

Officers'  Song  22o" 

Outlines  for  Busy  Work (382 

Place   and    Power  of   Memorized 

Scripture  101 

Peter    103 

Primary  Teachers'  Course,  The.. 

160,  215,  327 

Physical  Training   217 

Program  for  the  Eleventh  Annual 

Convention  , 325 

Primary  Association,   The 329 

Purpose  of  the  Story  in  The  Pri- 
mary Association 331 

Report  From  Record  Cards 161 

Record  Cards   274 

Report    of    Primary    Officers    at 

Convention     395 

Remarks  President  Louie  B.  Felt. 395 

Six  Weeks'  Instruction 100 

Stones  and  Storv-Telling 216 

Social  for  the  June  Convention.  .216 

Story,  What  It  Is 334 

Some    Primary   Association    His- 
tory     397 

Stories  True  and  False 401 

Sanitary  Drinking  Cup 457 

Stake  Secretaries  569 

Stake  Aids  627 


VI 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 


To  Toil,  To  Suffer,  To  Die 47 

Third  Old  Man,  A 102 

Teaching  Manners 515 

Tableau  for  Christmas  Entertain- 
ment   687 

Use  of  Memorized  Scriptures ....  103 

LESSON  DEPARTMENT. 

Lesson  Hour 50,  106,  164,  220, 

276,  339,  407,  458,  517,  572,  632,  690 
Story  Hour 58,  119,  174,  230, 

287,  352,  415,  471,  527,  583,  639,  697 
Busy  Hour 56,  116,  173,  229, 

286,  349,  413,  469,  525.  581,  638,  700 
Social  Hour- 59,  120,  176,  231, 

288,  351,  414,  472,  527,  584,  640,  703 

ILLUSTRATIONS. 

All  the  Way  Up  the  River 62 

Aunt    Chloe    Sat    Down    by    Her 

Small  Niece  68 

An  Interesting  Caller 212 

Brighton  in  Summer  and  in  Win- 
ter    83 

Boy  Jesus  661 

Chiyo  All  Ready  for  a  Rainj^  Day 

Walk  15 

Chiyo  Thomas  with  Her  Guests. .   16 

•Chicken  House  Carpenter,  A 151 

Company    Shouted    "Ice   Cream," 

The  265 

Completed  Rack 582 

Dinah .203 

Discovery  of  Mud's  Peculiarity.  .243 
Dog   Had    Put    His    Nose   to   the 

Ground 290 

Donkey's  Ears,  The 297 

Fashionable  Call,  A 12 

Faiher  Clasped  His  Arms  around 

Lamb's   Body    189 

Freeze,  Lillie  T 391 

Growing  Round,  A 197 

vleneral  Presidency 252 

Hard  at  Work   r 74 

His  Morning  Walk 90 

He   Held   the   Mirror   Up   Before 

Peggy's   Eyes    178 

He  Sprang  Upon  the  Bed  with  a 

Joyful  Bark  234 

I'll  Give  Him  a  Poke 36 

In    the    Chair    Sat    the    Princess 


Wisla   586 

It  was  to  Plhce  Clothespin  So 380 

Keesa  Singing 662 

Little  Coasters 1 1 

Leap  Frog  434 

Lucky    440 

Mouse  Colored  Snow 9 

Mud   Ran  the    Funniest    I    Ever 

Saw 244 

Marjorie  and  Major   268 

Making  Up 271 

Musical    309 

Nako  San   14 

Mrs.  E.  B.  Wells  591 

Mahonri    M.   Young 592 

Nicodemus   610 

Officers  of  Sevier  Stake 163 

Oh,  Oh,  Have  You  Peggy's  Dog 

Stumpy?    530 

Only   Fooling    618 

Prescindia  L.  Kimball   38 

Parlor  Hen,  The 81 

Pulling  His  Nose 96 

Princess  Wisla's  Journey ....;..  .354 
Peggy  Looked  with  a  Half  Smile 

at  the  Conductor 418 

Phi,  a  Great  Deal  Depends  Upon 

You  Know  474 

Pansy 665 

Quilt  Blocks    526 

Rain 130 

Rosemarie  and  Fairy 554 

"She    Will    Live,"    Said    the    Old 

Doctor   122 

Sewing   My   Patchwork    Before   I 

Play    256 

Some  of  the  Class  of  1913 454 

Sea  Gull  Monument   590 

Tommyhawk    Club    was     Sitting: 

around  the  Council  Fire 133 

Then   Mud  Seemed  to  Go  Crazy 

all  at  Once    191 

They  Didn't  Even  Give  Lib  Time 

to  Get  Out  of  the  Way 192 

Tennis   Net,  The 302 

Teachers,  The 456 

Washington    66 

Winter  Home,  A   88 

Watching  for  Santa 667 

Winne-Lackee  Snatched  the   Lit- 
tle Princess   642 

Zada    Would    Sometimes    For -et 

to  Shut  t4ie  Gate   31 


The  CHILDREN'S  Friend 


DCi£i 


Vol.  XII.  JANUARY,   1913.  No.  1. 


LITTLE  PRINCESS  WISLA. 

BY   SOPHIE   SWETT. 

Chapter  I. — The  Day  Before  the  Launching. 

There  was  a  long,  long  board  placed  across  a  great  pile  of  lumber, 
in  the  ship-yard.  That  made  what  the  boys  and  girls  who  lived  in 
PoIl)rwhoppet  called  a  "teeter." 

Under  the  "teeter"  were  great  piles  of  soft,  sweet-smelling  saw- 
dust, so  if  one  came  down  hard  or  even  slipped  off  it  was  no  great 
matter. 

On  this  June  morning  when  the  story  begins  Peggy  Piper  was 
on  one  end  of  the  "teeter"  and  her  most  especial  friend,  Betty  Brooks, 
was  on  the  other  end.  When  Peggy  went  up,  up,  up  into  the  clear 
sunshiny  air,  so  high  up  that  it  seemed  almost  as  if  she  were  going  to 
touch  the  blue  sky,  she  looked  down  at  the  great  ship  upon  the  "ways," 
all  ready  to  be  launched  into  the  beautiful  blue  river. 

The  ship  was  named  for  her.  "Margaret  Piper"  was  the  name  in 
gilt  letters  upon  the  bow.  Peggy  could  see  them  glittering  in  the  sun- 
light as  the  great  "teeter"  tossed  her  high  into  the  air.  Grandpapa  had 
named  the  ship.  Margaret  had  been  Grandmamma's  name,  as  well  as 
hers.  And  Grandmamma  had  been  called  "Peggy"  when  she  was 
young. 

It  was  delightful  for  a  little  girl  to  have  a  great  ship  named  for 
her,  but  Peggy  thought  it  was  better  still  for  the  little  girl  to  be  named 
for  Grandmamma,  whom  everyone  loved. 

When  Betty  Brooks,  in  her  turn,  went  up,  up,  up  so  high  that  she 
could  see  what  a  good  match  the  sky  was  for  her  blue  gingham  aprOn, 
she  looked  down  at  Peggy  who  was  smiling  up  at  her  and  thought  that 
no  little  girl  ever  had  such  a  delightful  "best  friend"  as  she  had.  Peggy 
had  said  it  would  be  no  fun  at  all  to  christen  the  ship  unless  Betty  could 
be  upon  the  deck  with  her.  And  Betty  was  to  have  a  blue  dress — blue 
being  the  color  of  her  eyes — made  just  like  Peggy's  pink  one.  Peggy 
had  dark  eyes  and  black  hair  and  a  skin  so  dark  that  she  looked  like 
a  little  gypsy  in  her  yellow  dress  with  the  white  ruffles,  as  she  sat 
there  on  the  end  of  the  "teeter." 

Betty  thought  all  about  the  delightful  time  they  were  to  have  at 
the  launching  and  wished  tomorrow  would  hurry.  The  ship-yard  would 
be  crowded  with  people,  then;  every  boy  and  girl  in  Pollywhoppet 
would  be  there,  to  say  nothing  of  the  grown  people.    The  hand  would 


2  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

play,  and  the  children  would  sing.  They  were  going  to  sing  a  sailor 
song  with  a  chorus,  and  "My  county,  'tis  of  thee,"  and  "Praise  God 
from  whom  all  blessing  flow."  Then  there  would  be  such  a  silence  that 
one  could  hear  a  pin  drop  while  Peggy  pronounced  the  name  of  the 
ship,  and  afterwards  a  great,  thrilling,  joyful  moment  when,  while  the 
band  played,  and  all  the  people  shouted  as  with  one  wild  voice,  and 
everyone  on  board  held  their  breath,  the  ship  would  stir,  slip,  then  slid#. 
and  rush,  almost  as  if  she  were  alive,  into  the  beautiful  blue  river. 

"Shall  you  be  scared?"  Betty  called  to  Peggy  when  she  was  down 
in  the  sawdust  heap  and  Peggy  was  up  in  the  sky.  "I  mean  when  the 
ship  goes  down  into  the  water." 

"No,  I  shall  be  too  happy  to  be  scared.  Besides  I  shall  know 
that  my  father  is  there  and  it  will  be  all  right,"  answered  Peggy. 

"I  hope  my  new  shoes  won't  pinch  my  toeS,"  said  Betty. 

"Wear  you  old  ones  if  they  do,"  said  Peggy  promptly.  "It's  a 
good  deal  better  to  have  a  good  time  in  old  shoes  than  a  bad  time  in 
new  ones." 

But  Betty's  face  did  not  brighten  as  she  again  went  up,  up,  up,  into 
the  blue  sky.  Betty  was  a  person  who  thought  a  great  deal  of  new 
shoes.  She  said  that  when  you  were  born  so  you  could  not  help  it. 
Peggy  pitied  her.    She,  herself,  thougth  more  of  a  good  time. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I  will  do,"  she  called  up  from  the  saw-dust  heap 
to  Betty  up  in  the  blue  sky,  "if  you  have  to  wear  your  old  shoes  I 
will  wear  mine !" 

And  then  Betty's  face  did  brighten,  although  she  said  she  would 
not  let  her  do  it. 

Betty  thought  that  it  was  a  great  thing  to  have  a  true  friend.  And 
so  indeed  it  is,  although  some  people  are  nearer  to  ninety  than  to  nine 
before  they  find  it  out.  And  other  people,  alas !  go  through  the  great, 
beautiful,  friendly  world  without  ever  finding  it  out  at  all.  But  Betty 
Brooks,  only  nine,  had  begun  to  think  about  it,  today,  and  she  would 
never  forget.  She  thought  only  happily  of  her  old  shoes  now,  and  she 
said  to  herself  that  she  would  find  something  soon  that  she  could  do 
to  make  Peggy  happy.  And  ahe  would  never,  never  again  have  a 
secret  with  Maria  Green  that  she  could  not  tell  Peggy ! 

•  Some  one  was  whistling  the  sailor  song  that  the  children  were  to 
sing  at  the  launching  tomorrow.  It  was  such  a  gay,  "catchy"  tune  that 
you  could  hardly  keep  from  whistling  it  if  you  were  a  boy. 

"Betty,  Betty,  Miss  Nipping' wants  you  to  try  on  your  dress!" 

It  was  Betty's  brother  Sidney  who  called.  Peggy's  brother  Phi 
was  with  him.  Phi  was  named  Philander  after  Grandpapa.  Phi  was 
twelve  years  old,  but  he  had  a  pretty  good  opinion  of  Peggy  if  she  was 
only  ten  and  a  girl.  He  said  Peggy  was  "square."  That  seemed  to 
mean,  at  least  in  Pollywhoppet,  that  she  was  truthful  and  honest  and 
always  "played  fair." 

Peggy  said  on  her  ride  that  Phi  knew  how  to  be  a  brother.  And  I 
am  sure  that  is  a  great  deal  to  know. 

Peggy  came  down  and  Betty  went  up  until  the  board  was  evenly 


(■:(;gy  i\  the  boat 


4  THE  CHILDREN'S  ERIEND, 

balanced  across  the  pile  of  lumber,  and  then  they  both  hopped  off 
together  as  you  have  to  do  from  a  "teeter"  so  that  neither  shall  get  a 
bounce  up  or  a  jounce  down. 

"I  am  afraid  I  shan't  be  able  to  come  back,"  said  Betty  sadly. 
**Miss  Nipping  tries  on  so  many  times." 

"Never  mind!  It  will  be  tomorrow  soon,*'  said  Peggy,  comfort- 
ingly as  Betty  went  scuffling  oflF  through  the  sawdust  heaps. 

Sidney  Brooks  and  Peggy's  brother  Phi  were  going  to  take  a  final 
survey  of  the  ship  where  some  workmen  were  putting  on  the  finishing* 
touches,  but  Morticer  Hill  came  along  and  invited  them  to  go  trout- 
fishing  with  him,  over  to  Dapple  Creek,  and  they  changed  their  minds 
and  went. 

Peggy  had  no  playmate,  now,  in  the  ship-yard.  All  the  town 
seemed  to  be  getting  ready  for  tomorrow.  One  can  not  "teeter  alone, 
and  in  fact  there  is  not  much  fun  to  be  had  alone  even  in  a  ship-yard. 
Peggy  wandered  down  to  the  ship. 

She  wished  that  Phi  were  there  to  take  her  out  in  his  small  row- 
boat.  It  was  a  new  boat,  and  she  was  going  to  make  Phi  some  cushions 
for  it,  her  own  self.  She  got  into  the  boat  and  rocked  to  and  fro.  The 
saw-mill  whistle  blew  the  noon  signal,  and  in  a  moment  all  was  quiet 
on  the  river;  the  lumber-men  left  their  rafts  and  went  to  the  shanties 
on  shore  for  their  dinner.  There  was  a  sail-boat  fastened  to  a  buoy 
whose  sail  was  set  and  flapping  wildly  in  the  wind ;  near  the  sail-boat, 
something  that  looked  like  a  red  feather,  was  floating  on  the  water. 
The  longer  Peggy  looked  at  it  the  more  she  wished  to  know  what  it 
was. 

"I  might  pull  out  as  far  as  that  by  myself,"  she  thought.  PoUy- 
whoppet  boys  and  girls  were  brought  up  on  the  river  and  Peggy  had 
often  rowed  herself  around  near  the  shore.  She  pulled  out  from  the 
ship.  The  boat  and  the  oars  were  light  and  that  was  easy.  The  bit  of 
red  was  bobbing  up  and  down  upon  the  waves  still,  near  the  sail-boat. 

When  Peggy  had  rowed  near  enough  she  reached  over  the  side  of 
the  boat  and  tried  to  draw  the  red  feather  in  with  the  oar.  Her  boat 
drifted  close  to  the  sail-boat.  The  sail  swung  smartly- around,  in  a 
sudden  gust,  and  struck  her.  She  lost  her  balance  and  fell  overboard, 
down,  down  into  the  great  deep  river !  She  had  not  time  even  to  cry 
out  and  no  one  had  seen  her,  no  one  knew  what  had  happened. 

She  felt  strangely,  that  going  down,  down  into  the  blue  water  was 
not  unlike  going  up,  up  into  the  blue  sky  as  she  had  done  upon  the 
"teeter."  Then  came  a  great  fear,  a  thought  of  home,  queer  fancies 
like  a  dream ;  Betty  in  her  new  blue  dress ;  Phi  trying  not  to  let  people 
see  that  he  was  crying ;  her  mother's  face,  so  sweet  and  dear.  Then  a 
voice  that  seemed  to  say  comfortingly  what  she  had  said  to  Betty, 
"Father  will  be  there  and  it  will  be  all  right." 

After  that  a  sense  of  suflFocation — a  rushing  noise  in  her  ears — ^and 
she  knew  no  more.  And  there  were  only  some  wide  ripples  in  the  river 
where  Peggy  had  gone  down. 

(To  be  continued,) 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


AT  THE  TURN  OF  THE  ROAD. 

BY  KATE  W.  HAMILTON. 

MurieFs  room — a  pretty  room  with  soft  draperies,  delicate  colors, 
and  all  the  dainty  little  toilet  appointments  in  which  a  girl's  heart 
delights — was  brightly  lighted  that  evening,  and  in  the  half  disorder 
which  betokens  hurried  preparation.  The  two  girls  were  flying  about, 
fastening  back  refractory  tresses,  tying  bows,  and  selecting  laces  to 
a  running  accompaniment  of  gay  chatter  and  peals  of  laughter,  while 
occasionally  one  or  the  other  would  step  to  the  window  for  a  quick 
glance  at  the  white  street  below. 

"They're  not  here  yet,  Edith,  but  we  mustn't  keep  them  waiting  a 
minute  when  they  do  come.  Everybody  promised  to  be  ready  early, 
for  we  have  to  ride  five  miles  before  we  reach  th^  ice,  you  know," 
Muriel  explained,  for  the  sixth  time,  as  her  guest  remembered  with 
secret  amusement. 

Watching  the  street  was  not  the  only  interruption.  More  than 
once  there  had  been  a  voice  or  knock  at  the  door.  First  it  was  Aunt 
Margaret.  She  only  ventured  a  yard  or  two  into  the  room,  perched 
on  the  nearest  chair,  and  viewed  the  hats  and  wraps  upon  the  bed  with 
what  Edith  mentally  called  her  "twilight  smile." 

"You  are  going,  then,  Muriel?" 

"Why,  yes,  auntie.    You  know  we  talked  it  all  over  at  dinner." 

"Oh ! —  I  didn't  know  as  you'd  really  think  you'd  better."  There 
seemed  a  faint  note  of  disapproval  in  the  voice,  though  the  words  were 
vague.  "It's  a  sleigh  ride  to  the  river,  you  said,  didn't  you?  and 
then  a  skating  party  ?" 

"Yes."  Muriel  tried  to  keep  her  impatience  out  of  her  tones.  Aunt 
Margaret  never  appeared  quite  sure  of  anything,  least  of  all  of  her  own 
views.    "Miss  Mitchell  is  going  with  us,  auijtie." 

"Oh !"  said  Aunt  Margaret  again,  this  time  with  a  note  of  relief. 
"No  doubt  she  will  take  good  care  of  you  all."  She  smiled  her  uncer- 
tain smile  once  more,  looked  about  her  in  a  helpless  sort  of  way,  as  if 
she  fancied  she  had  a  duty  to  perform  but  could  not  find  it,  and  slowly 
left  the  room.  Ever  since  she  came  to  the  house,  two  years  before, 
Aunt  Margaret  had  been  struggling  with  that  same  uncomfortable 
combination  of  feelings— an  undefined  sense  of  responsibility,  uncer- 
tainty and  helplessness. 

Muriel's  own  opinions  were  not  of  the  misty  order,  and  her  aunt's 
vague  attempts  at  governing  nothing  In  particular  sometimes  vexed,  but 
oftener  amused,  her.  Just  now  the  eyes  that  were  reflected  in  the 
mirror  had  a  twinkle  of  fun  in  them  as  the  door  closed.  Then  she 
heard  her  father's  step  in  the  hall,  and,  dropping  her  gloves,  she  flew 
out  to  intercept  him. 

"You  must  bid  us  good  night,  father.  Edith  and  I  are  going  sleigh 
riding,  so  I'll  not  be  here  when  you  come  in." 


6  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

"Going  out  somewhere,  are  you,  daughter?  I  didn't  know  you 
had  any  plans  for  tonight." 

"It's  that  sleigh  ride  and  skating  party.  Why,  you  did  know, 
father-doctor,  for  I  told  you  myself !"  She  interrupted  her  explanation 
with  a  playful  shake  of  his  arm. 

"Perhaps  so,  my  dear.  Tm  not  very  good  at  remembering  such 
things,"  he  admitted,  patiently. 

Something  in  his  worn  face  and  his  grave,  kind  eyes  made  her 
wish  that  he  would  say  more. 

"You  do  not  mind,  do  you  ?"  she  asked. 

"No-o,  no,  I  suppose  not;  only  there  are  Rena  and  Van.  Never 
mind,  dear,"  he  added,  hastily,  as  he  saw  her  face  cloud ;  "Aunt  Mar- 
garet is  in  the  house  with  them,  of  course,  even  though  she  does  go 
to  her  room,  and  I  don't  want  to  shut  my  little  girl  away  from  the 
pleasures  that  her  young  friends  have.  She  must  take  her  outings 
now  and  then.  I  can  trust  the  now  and  then  of  it  to  you,  Muriel."  He 
smiled  tenderly  into  her  eyes  as  he  kissed  her. 

Poor,  busy  doctor,  with  his  many  cares  and  round  of  patients,  his 
memory  was  scarcely  longer  for  her  outings  past  than  for  those  in  pros- 
pect; but  Muriel  suddenly  recalled,  with  a  little  twinge  of  something 
like  guilt,  how  many  they  had  been  of  late.  "Now  and  then"  would 
scarcely  fit  the  case. 

"Father,  Miss  Mitchell  is  going  with  us  tonight,"  she  added,  with 
a  quick  thought  as  he  turned  away. 

"That's  right,  daughter;  I'm  very  glad  of  it." 

His  tone  of  satisfaction  and  approval  banished  her  momentary  dis- 
quiet, and  she  ran  lightly  back  to  her  room  again ;  but  she  left  her  door 
ajar,  and  little  Van  took  advantage  of  it  a  few  minutes  later  by  pushing 
it  open  and  walking  in.  Rena  followed  him,  and  both  children  looked 
with  evident  disfavor  on  what  the  room  revealed. 

"We  thought  maybe  you'd  stay  home  tonight,"  said  Rena,  with 
unconscious  emphasis  on  the  last  words.    "It's  New  Year's  eve." 

But  little  Van  was  outspoken. 

"I  don't  want  you  to  go  off.  What  makes  you  go  'way  all  the  time 
for,  Mur'el?    I  want  you  to  sing  songs  and  pop  corn." 

"So  I  will  some  other  night,  baby!  we'll  have  great  times.  Run 
away  now,  both  of  you,  like  good  children.    You  are  hindering  us." 

They  obeyed  slowly  and  reluctantly,  and  Van  was  still  protesting 
as  they  walked  along  the  hall. 

7  don't  see  what  her  wants  to  go  'way  all  the  time  for." 

I'm  going  to  do  it,  too,  when  I  get  a  little  bigger,"  declared  Rena, 
who  was  three  years  the  elder.  Til  go  everywhere  all  the  time,  to 
parties  and  lots  of  places.  Girls  that  don't  have  any  mothers  can  do 
just  what  they  please." 

Muriel's  cheeks  flamed.  What  an  awful  way  to  mention  mother ! 
Dear,  blessed  mother!  The  girl's  throat  swelled.  Did  any  one  for  a 
moment  imagine  she  could  think  of  that  loss  as  bringing  freedom  ?  She 
glanced  at  Edith  and  hoped  her  friend  had  not  heard  Rena's  words. 


"] 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  7 

Fortunately,  the  sound  of  sleigh  bells  and  gay  voices  under  the  win- 
dows left  no  chance  for  further  remark,  and  the  merry  party  was  soon 
on  its  way. 

It  was  a  beautiful  moonlight  night,  and  the  long  sleigh  with  its 
load  of  muffled  figures  sped  swiftly  along  the  streets  until  the  glittering 
stores  and  twinkling  lights  were  left  l^hind  and  the  snowy  country 
road  stretched  away  like  a  white  ribbon  before  them. 

"Will  the  New  Year  come  tonight,  mother?"  laughingly  quoted 
some  one.  "Charlie,  it  is  to  be  hoped  you  know  where  you  are  taking 
us."    The  latter  remark  was  addressed  to  the  driver. 

"Taking  you  to  meet  the  New  Year  in  case  it  doesn't  arrive  on 
schedule  time,"  was  the  careless  reply.    "I'm  aiming  straight  for  it." 

"We  are  glad  you  are  aiming  that  way — straight — it's  the  way  we 
want  to  meet  it,"  said  Miss  Mitchell. 

Her  low,  sweet  laugh  accompanied  the  words,  and  yet  they  were 
not  light  ones,  Muriel  knew.  "But  she's  never  preachy,"  the  g^rl 
thought,  studying  the  pure,  strong  profile  in  the  moonlight,  and  won- 
dering for  a  moment  what  was  the  charm  that  made  the  young  people 
always  like  to  have  Miss  Mitchell  with  them,  and  the  older  ones  so 
satisfied  when  she  was  of  a  party.  She  was  a  busy  woman,  a  success- 
ful teacher  in  the  city  schools,  but  she  seemed  at  home  anywhere,  sure 
to  enjoy  herself  and  to  help  others  to  do  the  same.  She  was  as  young 
at  heart  as  any  of  them,  as  ready  for  game  or  story,  and  now,  when 
some  one  started  a  song,  her  voice  rose  clear  with  the  others. 

The  crisp,  frosty  air  pinched  cheeks  into  unwonted  rosiness  and 
brightened  eyes  and  wits.  Even  the  horses  seemed  to  share  the  exhilar- 
ation and  flew  over  the  snowy  expanse,  requiring  to  be  'checked  rather 
than  speeded  on  their  course.  Presently  the  level  country  changed  to 
the  low  hilfa  that  stretched  away  toward  the  river,  but  still  the  undu- 
lating road  was  good  and  worn  to  almost  icy  smoothness  by  much 
travel. 

'Two  miles  more  now,"  said  the  young  driver,  gayly.  "We'll  make 
it  m — 

But  the  sentence  was  left  unfinished. 

The  sleigh  careened,  something  snapped,  the  horses  gave  a  fright- 
ened plunge  and  sprang  to  one  side,  and  for  a  minute  the  whole  party 
poised  perilously  on  the  edge  of  a  steep  descent  that  bordered  the  road. 
A  scream,  a  muffled  exclamation,  the  quick  flash  of  a  whip  that  turned 
the  horses  sharply  in  the  other  direction,  and  the  danger  was  over. 

"Oh!  I  thought  we  were  gone!" 

"That  was  a  narrow  chance !" 

"What's  broken  ?" 

They  were  rapidly  disengaging  themselves  from  the  cumbering 
robes  and  climbing  out  of  the  evidently  disabled  vehicle,  amid  muffled 
exclamations,  long  breaths  of  relief,  and  some  nervous  laughter.  The 
moonlight  showed  faces  that  had  suddenly  paled,  and  the  young  men 
gathered  in  hurried  consultation  round  the  horses.  Edith  looked  down 
into  the  ravine  they  had  so  narrowly  escaped. 


8  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

"If  we  had  gone  over  there,  it  would  have  been  the  end  of  all  of 
us."  she  said,  with  a  little  shiver  of  horror.  "It's  taken  away  all  my 
(lefjre  to  go  any  farther." 

But  there  was  no  question  of  going  farther,  for  a  brief  examina- 
tion of  the  sleigh  showed  a  broken  runner.  It  must  be  conveyed  to  the 
nearest  possible  place  for  repairs,  a  distance  of  half  a  mile  or  more 
across  the  country,  and  meanwhile  where  could  the  ladies  find  warmth 
and  shelter  while  they  awaited  its  return.  A  short  distance  down  the 
road,  a  twinkling  light  appeared,  and,  as  one  pointed  it  out,  there  came 
faintly  on  the  frosty  air  the  sound  of  singing. 

"Oh,  I  know  what  it  i§!"  exclaimed  Charlie.  "There's  a  little 
church  over  there  round  the  curve.  IVe  seen  it  often,  and  they  must 
be  holding  a  meeting.    You  might  go  there,  I  suppose  ?" 

The  last  sentence  held  an  interrogation,  and  the  speaker  turned  to 
Miss  Mitchell. 

"Surely;  why  not?"  she  answered,  promptly.    "Come,  girls." 

It  was  a  plain  little  country^church  into  which  she  led  her  flock,r 
and  the  unexpected  entrance  of  so  many  strangers  attracted  some  at- 
tention from  the  small  party  gathered  there.  But  as  the  newcomers 
slipped  quietly  into  a  seat,  they  were  presently  left  unnoticed  save  by 
an  occasional  curious  glance  from  some  of  the  younger  eyes.  Muriel 
looked  round  her  with  a  feeling  of  one  in  a  dream.  The  transition 
from  the  merxy  sleigh  load  bound  for  an  evening's  pleasure  on  the  ice 
to  this  familiar  place  of  worship  was  so  sharp  as  to  seem  unreal. 

Then  some  of  the  loose  ends  of  her  own  life  began  to  crowd  upon 
the  girl's  thought — her  father's  tired  face  and  the  anxious  tone  in 
which  he  spoke  of  the  children ;  the  pleading  look  in  little  Van's  brown 
eyes  as  he  wished  "sister  would  stay  at  home,"  and,  worst  of  all,  Rena's 
calm  appreciation  of  the  liberty  to  be  enjoyed  by  a  motherless  girl. 
Some  one  must  have  made  such  comments  that  the  child  had  heard. 
Had  anyone  thought  that  she,  Muriel,  could  feel  in  that  way?  And 
yet,  down  under  all  the  comings  and  goings  and  inviting  friends,  had 
there  not  been  a  little  pleasant  consciousness  of  being  accountable  to 
no  one  but  the  too-indulgent  father — who  "did  not  know  much  about 
girls,"  as  he  had  once  half-sadly  admitted — and  Aunt  Margaret,  whose* 
oversight  amounted  to  nothing? 

"Oh, .mother,  I  never  meant  it  so!"  whispered  the  girl. 

How  much  she  might  have  done  to  make  the  home  more  home- 
like to  her  father  and  the  children.  Almost  as  if  the  casualty  so  nar- 
rowly escaped  had  indeed  swept  her  out  of  reach  of  them  all  forever, 
there  rushed  upon  her  the  remembrance  of  her  slighted  opportu- 
nities, and  her  heart  swelled  with  a  flood  of  tenderness  and  regret. 

"We  will  rise  and  clasp  each  other's  hand  while  w«  make  our 
prayer  and  promise  for  the  new  year,"  said  the  leader  of  the  meeting. 

The  movement  of  those  about  her  recalled  Muriel  to  her  sur- 
roundings, and  she  slowly  arose.  Miss  Mitchell's  eyes  smiled  down 
into  the  troubled  ones,  and  her  hand  rested  with  gentle  pressure  on 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  9 

that  of  the  girl.  It  seemed  to  Muriel  that  there  was  symapthy  and 
courage  in  the  touch, 

"So  may  the  path  of  our  lives  chmb  higher, 

Higher  year  by  year; 
And  the  dawn  of  the  perfect  day  draw  nigher, 

Nigher  year  by  year. 
Swift  be  your  feet  on  thine  errands  speeding, 
Tender  our  hearts  to  all  who  are  needing, 
Closer,  dear  Lord,  may  we  follow  Thy  leading. 

Closer  year  by  year,"  - 

rang  the  words  of  the  parting  song.  As  it  died  away,  there  came  the 
sound  of  sleigh  bells  outside,  and  presently  the  little  party  found  them- 
selves on  their  homeward  way.  It  had  been  a  very  different  evening 
from  that  which  they  had  planned,  and  they  were  somewhat  later  in 
returning,  so  that  the  three  miles  were  traveled  swiftly,  and  no  one 
'ieemed  in  the  mood  for  much  talking. 

"What  a  queer  time  we've  had  of  it!"  laughed  Edith,  when  the 
two  gr''''s  stood  once  more  in  Muriel's  room.  "And  here  we  are  back 
afi:ain,  minus  our  skating,  and  just  as  we  started." 

"Not  quite,  I  hope,"  Muriel  answered,  softly,  and,  though  Edith 
flid  not  know  it,  there  was  thanksgiving,  petition  and  resolve  in  the 
four   ^vords. 


MOUSE-COLORED  SNOW. 

"I'm  in  love  with  the  snow, — the  pure,  mouse-colored  snow!" 
"Wrote  the  mouse.    He  was  one  of  those  white  mice,  you  know. 


10  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRUiNl), 


JOAN'S  BURGLAR. 

"Grandmother!  O  grandmother!  won't  you  come  up  here  just  as 
quickly  as  you  can?" 

Joan's  voice  had  such  a  startled  tone  that  Grandmother  Allen 
dropped  the  evening  paper  and  started  upstairs,  to  find  her  little  grand- 
daughter standing  in  her  nightdress  at  the  head  of  the  stairs,  her  big 
blue  eyes  wide  with  fright,  and  her  Teddy  bear  clasped  tightly  to  her 
heaving  breast. 

"Dear  me,  Joan,  what  is  the  matter?"  asked  her  grandmother. 

"There's  some  one  t — t — trying  to  get  into  my  room,  grandmother," 
sobbed  the  little  girl. 

"Nonsense,  child!  What  a  fooHsh  idea  to  get  into  your  head! 
Who  do  you  suppose  wants  to  get  into  your  room  at  this  time  of  the 
night?"  reproved  Mrs.  Allen. 

"I  d — d — don't  know,  grandmother,  but  there  is,"  insisted  Joan. 
"They  keep  rattling  the  door  like  anything." 

"It's  the  wind,"  declared  her  grandmother,  proceeding  to  inves- 
tigate. 

"How  can  it  be  the  wind,  grandmother,  when  there  isn't  any?  It's 
as  still  as  anything,"  persisted  Joan,  followmg  her  grandmother  at  a 
safe  distance,  and  hugging  Teddy  bear  a  little  closer  at  every  step. 

"My!  Isn't  she  brave?"  Joan  whispered  to  Teddy  bear,  as  her 
grandmother  walked  boldly  across  the  room  and  threw  the  offending 
door  wide  open.  ^^ 

"There!  I  told  you  there  wasn't  anything  here,  Joan,"  she  said, 
holding  the  lamp  ahead  of  her  and  peering  carefully  round.  "Now  gfet 
right  back  into  bed  and  don't  let  me  hear  anything  more  from  you.  I 
didn't  know  you  were  such  a  scarecrow."  And  with  these  words 
Grandmother  Allen  went  back  to  her  paper. 

Ashamed  to  have  troubled  her  grandmother  so  needlessly,  Joan 
dutifully  climbed  back  into  the  big  bed  in  the  spare  room,  and  lovingly 
assuring  Teddy  bear  that  she  would  sleep  on  the  front  side,  to  protect 
him,  she  tried  to  forget  her  fears  and  go  to  sleep.  ^'^st  as  she  had 
gained  a  little  courage,  and  was  telling  Teddy  bear  that  thjy  were  very 
silly  to  be  so  frightened  at  the  rattling  of  a  door  latch,  the  rattling  began 


agam. 

"Oh  dear!"  she  shivered,  drawing  the  bedclothes  up  over  her  head, 
"there  it 'goes  again!"  Then  she  suddenly  gained  courage.  "Grand- 
mother wasn't  afraid  to  go  over  and  open  the  door;  let  us  go,  she  said 
to  Teddy  bear  in  a  loud  and  determined  tone  of  voice  for  timid  little 
Joan  Then  across  the  room  pattered  a  pair  of  little  bare  feet,— they 
didn't  make  nearly  so  much  noise  as  Grandmother  Allen  s  had  made,— 
and  then  a  rather  trembling  hand  reached  up  and  cautiously  lifted  tht 

latch. 

Down  went  Teddy  bear  upon  the  floor,  and  down  the  stairs  ran 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  11 

Joan,  screaming,  not  with  fright.  Oh,  no !  Joan's  voice  was  full 
of  glee. 

"It's  Sir  Hinkum,  grandmother!  It's  Sir  Hinkuml  He  was 
hangii^  on  the  other  side  of  the  latch  when  I  opened  the  door.  I  saw 
him  drop,"  Joan's  excited  voice  was  telling  Grandmother  Allen,  while 
the  large  white  cat  that  hunched  lovingly  against  Joan  during  the  recital 
seemed  to  be  purring,  "What  a  silly  child  you  were,  to  be  so  easily 
frightened." 

When  Joan  was  snugly  tucked  into  the  big  bed  again  with  Teddy 
bear  beside  her,  she  said  to  her  grandmother,  in  a  sleepy  voice,  "Sir 
Hinkum  can  rattle  the  door  all  he  chooses  to,  now,  Teddy  bear  and  I 
are  going  to  sleep." 

The  next  morning  as  the  white  cat  sat  up  on  the  cushion  gazing  at 
her,  Joan  informed  him  that  she  was  a  "silly  girl"  no  longer,  "I've  ■ 
found  that  the  only  way  to  be  brave  is  to  go  right  ahead  and  try  to  find 
out  what  is  frightening  you,"  she  told  him. 

"I  guess  yoti  are  right,"  blinked  Sir  Hinkum's  big  yellow  eyes." — 
Helen  M.  Richardson. 


-im 


THE  LITTLE  CO.^STERS. 

The  policeman  gave  them  a  start — 
That  was  good  of  him,  bless  his  heart ! 
M.  J.  H. 


THE 

JAPANESE 
GIRL'S; 
FESTIVAL. 

BY  EDNA   BARKER   THOMAS. 


A  FASHIONABLE   CALL. 

Perhaps  you  would  like  to  hear  about  our  baby's  "O  Hina  Sama" 
party,  and  see  some  of  the  pictures  that  were  taken.  You  know  "O 
Hina  Sama"  are  the  dolls  of  the  Girl's  Festival,  which  is  to  the  little 
Japanese  girls  what  Christmas  is  to  our  little  girls  at  home.  It  is  the 
girl's  great  yearly  holiday.  On  and  during  a  few  weeks  before  the 
3rd  of  March  every  toy  shop  in  all  the  large  cities  is  gaily  decked  with 
what  are  called  "O  Hina  Sama"  which  in  truth  are  more  than  dolls, 
being  tiny  models  both  of.  people  and  of  things,  in  fact  the  whole  Jap- 
anese court  in  miniature.  In  every  home  where  there  are  girls,  whether 
young  or  old,  rich  or  poor,  for  this  holiday  a  part  of  the  best  room  in 
the  house  is  dedicated  to  a  flight  of  pretty  altars  or  steps  for  arranging 
the  sets  of  various  dolls  with  the  proper  furniture  and  effects  that  go 
with  them. 

On  the  uppermost  shelf  is  a  pair  of  "O  Dairi  Sama,"  the  dolls  rep- 
resenting the  Emperor  and  Empress.  These  are  the  heirlooms  of  the 
family  handed  down  from  generation  to  generation,  first  bought  nobody 
knows  how  many  years  ago  and  by  whom.  The  six-folded  screen  be- 
hind the  "O  Dairi  Sama"  is  perhaps  another  heirloom.  On  the  second 
row  just  below  come  the  five  court  musicians.  These  perhaps  were 
given  to  grandmother  while  she  was  still  a  baby.  On  the  third  row 
come  the  court  ladies  who  bear  the  drinking  cups  for  their  Majesties. 
Perhaps  they  were  the  gifts  of  an  uncle.     Then  comes  the  miniature 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  13 

chest  of  drawers,  which  holds  the  bride-doll's  five  changes  of  "kimono" 
for  the  wedding  ceremony;  beside  which  are  placed  the  two  trunks 
which  carry  the  bride's  quilts.  Then  there  are  the  bride's  toilet  articles 
— the  wash  for  blacking  the  teeth  (a  custom  now  not  followed),  and 
the  red  paint  for  her  lips.  Nor  must  we  forget  the  little  individual 
dining  stands  made  of  lacquered  wood  with  the  little  bowls,  each  of 
different  shapes,  to  hold  the  rice,  the  soup,  the  cold  vegetables,  the 
pickles,  etc.  And  so  on.  Those  are  only  a  few  of  the  necessary  essen- 
tials.    Every  year  or  two  anew  step  is  added  and  more  dolls  are  bought 


PtHTING  OL'T  THE      O  HINA  RAMA," 

to  fill  it,  until  in  time  the  whole  collection  of  a  rich  family  becomes  very 
extensive  and  valuable. 

The  Mama  who  at  other  times  is  very  busy  may  even  devote  three 
or  four  days  together  in  dusting  and  arranging  the  dolls.  She  goes  to 
the  store  house,  brings  out  all  these  household  treasures,  the  dolls,  the 
tea  things,  the  screens,  and  the  whatnots,  and  arranges  them  neatly  fdr 
view  as  in  the  picture.  Mama  also  prepares  special  elaborate  banquets 
for  the  little  doll  personages — and  also  for  the  living  personages,  too. 
She  tries  in  every  way  to  make  success  possible  for  her  little  girl's 
holiday. 


14  THli  CfllLDREX-S  FRIEND. 

The  young  girls  are  naturally  dazed  and  as  pleased  as  if  they  were 
in  fairy  land.  Just  to  think  of  their  parents  spending  so  much  money 
and  time  for  their  benefit.  The  little  girls  are  told  that  the  dazzling 
galaxy  of  expensive  dolls  are  all  their  own.  It  seems  almost  impossible, 
.And  well  may  the  girls  be  awe  stricken.  They  sit  in  silent  admiration. 
For  the  dolls  mean  more  than  dolls.  They  are  rather  curios  and  are 
l>art  of  the  family  heirlooms.  The  little  ones,  who  at  all  other  times 
want  to  investigate  and  analyze  every  new  toy  they  behold,  seem  to 
liave  a  peculiar  reverence  for  the  dolls  and  toys  of  March  3rd,  which 
they  regard  in  an  entirely  different  light  from  the  other  poor,  shabby 
toys  that  are  not  worthy  of  a  place  in  the  show,  but  which  share  in  all 
the  other  young  mistress'  joys  and  sorrows. 

The  children  must  never  touch  the  "O  Hina  Sama."  Just  look  at 
them.     They  are  not  to  be  played  with,  for  if  they  did,  the  Empress 


.-   SITTING  IN   FRONT  OF 


would  soon  lose  her  crown  or  the  musician  would  drop  the  flute  from 
his  mouth.  The  children  are  struck  with  a  certain  sense  of  awe  by 
the  very  grandeur  of  the  spectacle.     The  dolls  and  toys  displayed  are  so 


THE  CHILDREN'S  I-RIEAD.  15 

dramatically  classical,  and  although  small,  look  so  dignified  and  proud. 
The  children  are  told  the  history  of  each  article  and  everyone  of  them 
becomes  endeared  within  the  little  children's  hearts. 

The  girls  recognize  in  this  festivity  the  indisputable  evidence  of 
Mama's  and  Papa's  love  for  them.  Almost  from  the  time  they  were 
babies  the  Japanese  girls  have  learned  through  this  festival  how  the 
Emperor  and  Empress  should  he  served,  respected,  and  revered,  and 
this  reverence  is  associated  with  all  that  is  happy,  joyous,  and  grateful. 


The  Emperor  and  Empress  call  to  their  minds  the  pleasantest  pictures 
in  their  memeroy;  loving  parents;  good  smihng  friends;  plenty  of 
cakes,  and  sumptuous  feasts ;  lots  of  toys  and  lots  of  fun  and  many  other 
things,  all  good,  associated  with  the  "Hina  Matsuri" — Doll  Festival. 

When  all  has  been  nicely  arranged  and  the  banquets  prepared  for 
both  the  dolls  and  the  living  folks,  then  little  "O  Haru  Ko  San"  invites 
her  little  friends  to  come  and  see  her  treasures  and  then  there  is  a  happy 
children's  party. 

Inasmuch  as  our  little  Chiyo  ts  as  near  a  Japanese  girl  as  any  little 


16  THE  CHILDREN'S  IRIEKD. 

American  girl  can  be,  we  try  to  follow  the  Japanese  customs  as  well  as 
we  can.  So  we  began  her  "O  Hina  Sama"  collection  last  year  and 
added  a  little  more  to  it  this  year,  but  as  she  hasn't  any  heirlooms,  her 

beginning  is  still  very  small,  as  you  can  see  by  the  picture.     This  year 


CHnrO  THOMAS  WITH  HER  CtJESTS. 

we  put  out  all  her  dolls  and  her  little  friends,  who  had  been  invited 
before,  came  and  with  her  enjoyed  the  occasion  and  with  her  ate  the 
"O  Hina  Sama  Gochiso."  They  all  had  a  happy  time  but  none  of  them 
were  any  happier  than  little  Chiyo  Ko  San  herself  and  her  beaming  little 
■mother. 


NEW  YEAR'S  GREETING. 
New  Year's  greetings,  young  folks  all, 
New  Year  greetings,  hear  the  call ! 
Call  to  hope  and  call  to  cheer, 
Call  to  all  things  we  hold  dear. 
Turn  the  leaf,  a  new  page  see. 
Something  bright  for  you  and  me ; 
Here's  a  chance  to  change  the  old. 
Turn  the  silver  into  gold, 
Turn  the  f^il'ire  into  hope. 
Turn  the  small  to  larger  scope. 
— Sebcted. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  17 


THE  BATTLE  THAT  MADE  A  MAN  OF  TRUMP. 

Trump  Wilson's  home  was  of  the  real  sort.  His  mother  could 
make  anything  from  a  cartridge  belt  to  a  cowboy  costume,  and  his 
father  was  as  superior  in  his  way  as  his  mother  was  in  hers.  Trump's 
father  was  above  criticism ;  and  the  children  were  all  right  and  so  was 
Sister  Kate.  Trump  liked  to  parade  Kate  about  where  the  other  fel- 
lows could  see  her.  Yes,  Trump's  home  certainly  was  of  the  real  sort, 
which  accounts  for  the  fact  that,  at  heart.  Trump  himself  was  of  the 
real  sort,  too. 

Just  now  he  was  standing  by  his  window,  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
and  an  unprepossessing  look  on  his  face,  staring  down  with  unseeing 
eyes  at  a  group  of  boys  on  the  campus  below.  Three  years  ago  he  had 
entered  the  Crapps  School.  The  time  had  passed  like  an  exciting 
dream ;  baseball,  football  and  races  had  been  nothing  more  or  less  than  a 
succession  of  splendid  victories.  Like  all  healthy-minded  boys,  he  had 
lived  in  his  school.  Now  the  end  had  come ;  no  more  battles,  no  more 
victories,  no  more  **!5aving  the  game"  followed  by  deafening  cheers.  It 
was  all  over.  He  was  expelled.  Trump  turned  from  the  window  pres- 
ently and  surveyed  his  trunk.  "What  am  I  going  to  do  with  that?" 
he  asked  himself.  "I  can't  express  it  home;  the  sight  of  it  would  be 
too  much  for  them.  Can't  take  it  with  me ;  might  land  in  Africa  and  a 
trunk  wouldn't  be  convenient  there."  Trump  now  plunged  his  hand 
into  his  inside  pocket  and  produced  a  five-dollar  bill.  "Doesn't  look 
much  like  Africa  yet  awhile,"  he  exclaimed,  holding  up  the  bill.  "If  I 
don't  get  a  job  before  that's  gone,  I'll  be  nipped  by  the  elements." 
Trump  now  tried  to  persuade  himself  that  there  was  going  to  be  some 
excitement  looking  for  a  job.  "What's  done  is  done,"  he  told  himself. 
"I'm  expelled  and  good  enough  for  me.  Now  for  the  next  thing."  He 
surveyed  his  trunk  once  more,  then  turned  to  the  window. 

"Halloo  there,  Fizzie,"  he  shouted,  "give  me  a  lift  on  this  trunk.'! 
Trump  caught  the  ball  that  was  aimed  at  him  and  sent  it  home  with  a 
will.  When  he  brought  his  head  in  from  the  windows  he  heard  a  knock 
at  the  door.  Before  he  could  speak  the  door  opened  and  his  father 
walked  into  the  room.  If  the  doctor  himself  had  appeared  with  a  par- 
don in  his  hand.  Trump  could  not  have  been  more  surprised.  His 
father  walked  across  the  room  and  grasped  Trump's  hand. 

"Well,  son,  you're  in  trouble."  Mr.  Wilson  spoke  in  a  hearty, 
care- free  voice ;  you  would  have  thought  Trump  had  done  nothing  more 
serious  than  break  one  of  his  legs. 

"How  did  you  find  out?  Where  did  you  come  from?"  gasped 
Trump. 

"Dr.  Noble  wrote  us  two  weeks  ago.  He  had  not  thought  of  ex- 
pelling you  then."  Trump  winced  at  the  word,  but  Mr.  Wilson  was  not 
weighing  words.  "The  letter  was  not  reassuring.  Your  mother  and  I 
thought  best  to  look  into  the  matter  a  little,  so  I  came  on  East.     Well/' 


18  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Mr.  Wilson  looked  about  the  room,  "you've  been  pretty  comfortable 
here,  son.     Sorry  to  leave  the  school,  eh  ?" 

Trump's  throat  contracted  a  trifle. 

Mr.  Wilson  looked  out  of  the  window.  "Fine  collection  of  build- 
ings.    I'd  no  idea  you  had  such  an  equipment." 

Involuntarily  Trump's  chest  expanded  with  pride,  then,  as  he 
realized  he  was  no  longer  a  member  of  the  school,  it  contracted. 

"Dr.  Noble  has  written  us  several  letters  of  late,"  remarked  Mr. 
Wilson  cheerfully. 

"Painted  me  black,  of  course,"  muttered  Trump. 

"No,  he  merely  stated  facts  which  informed  us  that  you've  painted 
yourself  pretty  black." 

Trump  gave  his  father  a  quick  look.  He  couldn't  imderstand  his 
attitude.  He  didn't  seem  a  bit  cut  up.  At  least  he  didn't  act  so,  but 
his  face  told  a  different  story ;  it  was  terribly  haggard  and  worn  Oh, 
but  wasn't  his  father  game  though !  After  all  he'd  been  through,  not  a 
mean  word.  Trump  wished  the  boys  could  see  the  kind  of  father 
he  had. 

"I've  just  come  from  Dr.  Noble's  office,"  said  ^r.  Wilson. 

Trump  gasped.     "Father,  you  didn't  ask  him  to —  to — " 

Mr.  Wilson  smiled.    "You  may  rest  easy  on  that  score,  son." 

"Doctor  needn't  think  I'm  a  cur  to  sneak  out  of  what  I've  earned." 

Mr.  Wilson  studied  Trump  a  moment.  "I  suppose  it's  natural," 
he  said  presently,  "that  your  mother  and  I  should  think  that  this  black 
paint  you've  been  smearing  yourself  with  has  not  struck  in  very  deep. 
Well,  what  next,  son  ?    Any  plans  ?" 

Trump  shook  his  head.  "Oh,  I'll  get  a  job  all  right  somewhere," 
he  said  carelessly. 

"If  it's  a  job  you  want  there's  one  for  you  in  my  office." 

Trump  gazed  at  his  father  in  astonishment.  "Do  you  think  I'd  go 
home  with  this  disgrace  on  me  ?"  he  cried.     "Not  much." 

"No?"  Mr.  Wilson's  voice  was  prenaturally  quiet.  "Well,  I  in- 
tend to  go  with  the  disgrace  on  me,  and  your  mother  and  Sister  Kate 
are  not  the  kind  to  flinch.    They'll  face  it." 

Trump's  face  was  white  to  the  lips.  He  felt  as  if  his  father  had 
struck  him.  If  there  was  one  thing  that  he  had  lived  up  to  throughout 
his  course  at  the  Crapps  School,  it  was  his  utter  contempt  for  a  sneak, 
and  now  here  wa3  the  one  person  in  the  world  whose  good  opinion  he 
craved,  regarding  him  as  such.  Trump  turned  from  his  fsiher  and 
strode  to  the  window,  and  there  he  fought  the  hardest  battle  he  ever 
had  been  called  upon  to  fight.  To  go  home  and  grind  in  his  father's 
office  with  this  disgrace  upon  him  looked  impossible;  to  stay  East  and 
be  a  sneak,  leaving  his  family  to  bear  the  brunt  of  his  own  disg^ce 
also  looked  impossible,  and  Trump  tried  desperately  to  think  of  some 
middle  course.  Many  a  time  he  had  declared  to  the  boys  at  school  that 
he  had  no  use  for  a  fellow  who  wasn't  man  enough  to  stand  up  and  take 
what  was  coming  to  him.     His  own  words  challenged  him  now. 

How  long  Trump  stood  there  with  his  back  to  his  father,  or  with 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  19 

what  minified  feelings  of  pride  and  pity  his  father  waited  his  decision 
he  never  knew.  But  at  last  that  fight  was  over  and  he  faced  about. 
There  was  no  suggestion  of  a  whimper  in  his  voice.  The  hardest  thing 
that  had  ever  come  to  him  had  come  now  and  he  wasn't  going  to  prac- 
tice dodging  at  the  critical  moment. 

'When  do  you  want  to  start,  father?"  he  asked. 
'Can  vou  get  ready  for  the  8:10  from  Boston?" 
'Sure." 

"Very  well,  I'll  go  out  and  telegraph  your  mother." 
That  is  all  that  was  said,  but  it  was  the  beginning  of  Trump'? 
manhood,  and  his  father  knew  it. —  Selected. 


LITTLE  LOUIS  CATARAT. 

BY  JAMES  BUCKHAM. 

"There's  always  something  cowardly  about  a  little  fellow !"  sneered 
Tom  Bisbee,  the  bully  of  the  lumbering:  gfang.  "How  can  he  help  feel- 
ing small,  when  he  is  small?  Now,  if  I  hadn't  anything  more  to  back 
up  my  fists  with  than  Little  Louis  Catarat  has,  I'd  be  a  coward,  I 
s'pose — couldn't  help  it.  But.  bah !  what's  the  use  of  bothering  with 

a  pint  pot  like  Louis,  anyway?  He's  no  account.  If  he  were  half  the 
man  that  his  father  was.  he  wouldn't  stand  the  way  I've  treated  him. 
He'd  put  up  some  sort  of  fight." 

"Guess  he  would!"  remarked  one  of  the  men.  in  a  low  tone,  to  his 
neighbor.  "Big  Louis  Catarat  could  have  handled  Tom  Bisbee  with 
one  little  finger.  I  reckon  he  wouldn't  strut  round  the  way  he  does,  if 
Big  Louis  Catarat  was  alive !" 

Little  Louis  Catarat,  who  was  so  named  by  the  river  men  to  dis- 
tinguish him  from  his  gigantic  father,  before  the  latter  was  killed  by  a 
falling  tree,  had  heard  every  word  that  Tom  Bisbee  had  said.  Tom 
had  meant  that  he  should,  for  the  big  fellow  belonged  to  that  mean 
t3rpe  of  the  bully  that  is  not  content  with  physical  abuse  alone,  but  must 
add  thereto  the  maddening  taunt  as  well.  He  had  tried  again  and  again 
to  get  Little  Louis  angry  enough  to  come  to  blows  with  him,  but  the 
young  French-Canadian  had  always  kept  his  temper  down  with  a  splen- 
did self-control,  that  in  itself  was  a  moral  victory  won  at  no  small  cost, 
though  the  bully  always  pronounced  it  an  evidence  of  cowardice.  Little 
Louis  Catarat  was  not  one  who  believed  that  bravery  consists,  wholly  or 
chiefly,  in  mere  physical  aggressiveness.  He  would  not  have  been  a 
ready  fighter,  even  if  he  had  been  as  much  of  a  giant  as  his  father,  who 
was  known  among  all  the  river  men  of  Aroostook  County  as  "the  big 
log-driver."  Little  Louis,  in  strange  physical  contrast  to  his  father, 
was  under  five  feet  in  height ;  but  that  was  not  why  he  took  no  interest 
in  the  lumbermen's  brawls.  Though  short  in  stature,  he  was  strongly 
built,  was  quick  as  a  cat  in  his  movements,  and  had  such  powers  of 
endurance  as  seldom  are  equaled  even  among  the  hardy  river  drivers  of 


20  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

the  Maine  woods.  Young  Louis  Catarat  was  not  one  who  could  have 
been  easily  worsted  in  a  rough  and  tumble  brawl ;  but,  as  the  boss  of  the 
gang  said,  approvingly,  "His  heart  is  not  in  the  fight."  He  did  not 
care  to. prove  his  muscle  or  his  courage  in  that  way.  His  father  before 
him  was  never  a  fighter  for  mere  fight's  sake,  though  he  had  a  whole- 
some reputation  for  exacting  personal  respect,  and  keeping  things 
straight  and  decent  in  the  lumber  camp,  and  did  not  hesitate  to  use  his 
tremendous  strength  for  such  ends,  when  it  was  necessary. 

Little  Louis  Catarat  was  a  young  fellow  who  tried  to  do  right, 
mind  his  own  business,  and  be  at  peace  with  everyone  else  who  did  the 
same.  He  was  well  liked  by  all  the  men  except  the  bully  of  the  gang ; 
but  Tom  Bisbee  disliked  him  for  the  very  reason  that  made  him  popular 
with  the  others — because  he  respected  himself,  was  no  brawler,  and  at- 
tended strictly  to  his  own  affairs. 

On  this  last  occasion,  the  bully  taunted  Little  Louis,  before  his  face, 
and  in  the  hearing  of  all  the  men,  with  being  a  coward.  Tom  Bisbee 
had  tripped  the  young  Frenchman,  purposely,  as  the  latter  was  carrying 
a  mug  of  coflFee  from  the  big  pot  on  the  stove  to  his  seat  at  the  long 
table  where  the  men  messed,  and  had  caused  him  to  stumble  and  spill 
nearly  all  the  coflFee  over  his  clothes  and  boots.  Such  an  insult,  oflFered 
by  one  river  man  to  another,  would  ordinarily  have  provoked  a  fight. 
But  Little  Louis  Catarat  had  ignored  the  hateful  trick  altogether,  re- 
filled his  mug,  and  returned  to  his  seat,  with  no  further  notice  of  the 
insolently  staring  bully  than  to  keep  outside  the  range  of  the  foot  that 
was  outstretched  to  bar  his  way  again.  Most  of  the  men  at  the  table 
had  observed  this  bit  of  rude  byplay,  but,  though  some  grinned  at  the 
bully's  trick,  it  was  plain  to  be  seen  by  the  look  on  the  faces  of  the 
majority  that  their  sympathy  lay  with  the  self-controlled  young 
Canadian. 

"It  will  be  a  bad  day  for  Tom  when  Little  Louis  does  get  mad !" 
remarked  a  tall  New  Yorker  to  his  neighbor  at  the  table.  "These  silent 
fellows  are  terrible  when  they  do  let  themselves  loose." 

"That's  so,"  replied  the  other,  guardedly.  "Fd  lay  my  wager  on 
Little  Louis  Catarat !  There's  something  like  the  old  man's  look  in  his 
eye  when  he's  r'iled.  Some  day  Tom  Bisbee'll  find  he's  been  stirring  up 
a  Tartar !" 

But  time  went  on,  and  still  the  predictions  of  the  men  proved 
groundless.  Little  Louis  Catarat  would  not  fight  the  bully  who  per- 
petually annoyed  him.  He  held  to  his  course  of  quiet  reserve,  in  spite 
of  all  the  taunts  and  indignities  heaped  upon  him. 

One  day,  a  "jam"  of  the  logs,  that  were  being  rafted  by  the  men 
down  river,  formed  in  a  troublesome  gorge,  and  the  boss  called  for  big 
Tom  Bisbee  to  break  it  up.  Tom  was  a  first-class  river  driver,  in  spite 
of  his  ugly  and  bullying;'  disposition,  and  no  man  in  the  crew  was  so 
expert  in  breaking  up  that  bugbear  of  the  lumberman,  a  jam  of  loose 
logs  in  swift  water,  when  some  big  stick  of  timber  gets  stuck,  perhaps 
in  a  cleft  or  on  a  concealed  rock,  and  interlocks  itself  with  others  that 
follow,  piling  them  up  in  a  tangled  and  ever-increasing  mass,  that 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  21 

threatens  to  choke  the  whole  rived  bed.  The  only  way  to  break  up  a 
i^m  like  this  is  for  some  skilled,  intrepid  river  driver  to  take  his  life  in 
his  h^nds.  run  out  over  the  surging:,  tossing:,  jSfrinding  mass  of  logs,  find 
the  refractory  key  logf,  and  pry  it  loose  with  his  pike  pole.  Then  comes 
the  stampeding:  rush  of  the  released  logs,  and  the  most  difficult  feat  of 
all  for  the  daring  lumberman — to  get  back  to  shore  across  the  avalanche 
of  rolling,  rearing  logs,  as  they  tear  after  one  another  down  the  boiling 
current. 

It  takes  an  exceptional  man  to  successfully  break  up  a  bad  jam,  and 
save  his  own  life,  too.  Great  strength  must  be  united  with  steady  head 
and  nerves,  quickness  and  sureness  of  foot,  and  an  unerring  eye.  Tom 
Bisbee  was  proud  of  his  skill  in  this  most  difficult  feat  of  the  river 
driver.  His  bravery  in  it  was  his  one  redeeming  trait,  in  the  estima- 
tion of  the  other  men ;  for  however  much  he  may  personally  dislike 
another,  the  river  man  has  a  cordial  respect  for,  and  pride  in,  his  asso- 
ciate who  can  repeatedly  break  up  a  log  jam,  and  come  out  of  the  ordeal 
alive. 

This  jam  in  the  dreaded  Swiftwater  Gorge  was  by  far  the  worst 
of  the  drive,  thus  far.  Even  Tom  Bisbee  hesitated  when  he  saw  the 
interlaced  and  heaving  network  of  logs  which  he  was  expected  to 
release.  "Why.  man !"  he  cried  to  the  boss,  as  he  tightened  his  belt, 
"it's  like  a  pile  of  jackstraws !" 

"I  know  it,  Tom,"  replied  the  boss,  "it*s  an  ugly  jam  to  tackle,  and 
no  mistake.  But  vou're  the  only  man  in  the  crew  that  can  straighten  it 
out.     If  you  don't  like  the  job,  however — " 

"No  more  of  that  sort  of  talk — begging  vour  pardon !"  cried  Tom. 
"I  never  saw  the  log  jam  that  I  was  afraid  to  tackle.  Here  goes!" 
And,  balancing  his  long  pike  pole,  he  strode  across  the  slippery  logs  in 
his  hobnailed  boots,  straight  for  the  heart  of  the  tangle,  where  the  key 
log  was  pinned  in  the  straining  mass. 

Every  man  on  shore  held  his  breath  in  suspense,  as  big  Tom  leaned 
over  the  ends  of  half-a-dozen  up-thrusting  logs,  and  thrust  his  pike  pole 
deep  into  the  heart  of  the  jam.  A  firm  pry — a  mighty  heave — and 
down  sank  the  bristling  pile  of  logs,  as  a  house  of  blocks  crumbles  be- 
fore a  child's  finger.  Tom  had  set  free  the  key  log,  and  the  whole 
mass  was  going  with  it.  The  river  driver  leaped  back,  turned,  and 
ran  for  shore  over  the  rolling,  crashing  sticks  of  timber.  Now  he  is 
away  from  the  center  of  the  huddling  mass — but  see !  he  loses  his  foot- 
ing on  a  spinning  log,  falls  lengthwise  upon  it,  rolls  off,  and  disappears 
under  the  relentless  mass  that  follows !  He  is  under  the  raft — the  most 
terrible  predicament  that  can  happen  to  a  river  driver. 

What!  Who  is  that,  running  for  the  raft?  Little  Louis  Catarat? 
"Back,  lad !  It's  no  use !"  cried  the  boss.  "Unless  Tom  can  swim  to 
the  edge  of  the  raft,  it's  all  over  with  him." 

But  the  logs  are  surging  and  rolling  away  from  the  shore,  in  the 
suction  of  the  current,  and  Little  Louis  Catarat  is  on  top  of  them,  tread- 
ing, like  a  Japanese  juggler  on  a  barrel,  to  keep  his  balance.  No  chance 
to  return  now,  if  he  would !    The  raft  is  sucked  into  the  mid-stream 


22  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

current,  and  the  whole  grinding  mass  thunders  down  into  the  gorge. 

But  out  from  the  shoreward  edge  of  the  wild  huddle  suddenly 
floats  a  white  face,  glimmers  there  in  the  water  for  a  moment,  in  full 
sight  of  Louis  Catrat,  and  is  gone  again.  No — not  gone !  for  the  lithe 
form  of  the  young  Canadian  curves  forward,  dives  from  the  rolling  log, 
disappears  for  an  instant,  and  then  reappears,  swimming  lustily  shore- 
ward, with  the  blouse  of  big  Tom  Bisbee  clutched  in  his  teeth. 

Tom  had  come  up  for  the  last  time,  breathless  and  unconscious,  just 
as  the  last  of  the  outgoing  logs  released  him  from  his"  terrible  imprison- 
ment under  water.  He  was  as  good  as  drowned — would  never  have 
seen  the  light  of  day  again,  had  not  the  young  Canadian  made  the 
plunge  that  saved  him  from  going  downstream  with  the  logs.  It  was  a 
question,  even  now,  whether  that  white  face  would  ever  flush  with  life 
again. 

As  soon  as  Louis  reappeared  above  water  with  his  burden,  a  dozen 
men  rushed  into  the  stream  to  help  him.  Two  minutes  later,  Tom 
Bisbee  was  being  rolled  over  a  pork  barrel,  to  get  the  water  out  of  him. 
Then  he  was  laid  on  the  bank,  with  a  folded  coat  under  his  shoulders, 
and  for  five  minutes  his  arms  were  worked  up  and  down  in  wide  circles, 
like  the  sweep  of  an  eagle's  wings,  while  his  chest  was  depressed  and 
inflated,  bellows  fashion,  by  the  skilled  hands  of  the  boss. 

At  last  the  big  fellow  began  to  breathe — gaspingly  and  tremulously, 
at  first — and  then  slowly  came  back  to  life.  The  men  carried  him  and 
laid  him  in  his  blankets  in  the  sleeping  tent,  which  had  been  pitched  for 
the  night,  and  left  him  to  gather  himself  together,  while  they  went  down 
the  gorge  to  see  that  all  the  logs  came  through. 

It  was  three  days  before  Tom  Bisbee  was  himself  again.  Then 
when  he  came  out  to  mingle  with  the  other  men,  the  first  person  he 
sought  was  Little  Louis  Catarat. 

"Louis,"  he  said,  with  downcast  face,  ^'forgive  me !" 

"Glad-lee,  Tom  !'*  cried  the  young  Canadian,  extending  a  friendly 
hand.     "I  forgives  and  forgets  with  all  my  heart!" 

"I  owe  you  my  life,  Louis,"  continued  Tom,  grasping  the  out- 
stretched hand.  "Not  many  men  would  have  done  what  you  did,  but 
if  I  ever  have  a  chance,  Fll  do  as  much  for  you !  Louis,  you've  showed 
me  that  size  isn't  what  makes  a  man  a  man,  and  a  hot  fist  isn't  the  same 
as  a  brave  heart.  Boys,  join  me  in  three  cheers  for  Little  Louis  Cat- 
arat— a  true  son  of  Big  Louis,  and  every  inch  as  much  a  man !" 


"It  is  worth  a  thousand  pounds  a  year  to  have  the  habit  of  looking^ 
on  the  bright  side  of  things,"  said  a  great  philosopher. — The  Kin^*s 
Own. 


^EE,  MAMA!     Baby    has 

it.  Slie  will  not  let  it  fall, 
qor  try  to  break  it,  She  rqay 
take  my  book,  when  I  do  rjot 

qeed  it.      See  her  look  and  look  aqd  try  to  read  it.     Baby  is  such\ 

a  dear,  and  so  cute  l^er  ways.  And  Christn^as  and   New  Year  are 

such     good   days.      I   am 

glad    that    we  can    pray 

to  Heavenly  Father  every 

day. 

—  Lula  Greene  lijchtirdi. 


24  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


JOCK'S  LI'L'  BOY. 

"I  can*t  let  you  off  now,  Jock,"  I  expostulated,  impatiently.  "These 
lines  must  be  run  by  Saturday,  and  you  are  the  best  chopper  I  have. 
Can't  you  wait  till  next  week?" 

Jock  looked  down  at  me  a  little  reproachfully,  I  thought.  "I'se 
bleeged  ter  go,  boss,"  he  said,  decisively.  "I  done  tole  yo'  my  liT  boy's 
wuss.  Margfet's  Tobe  jes'  fotched  me  de  news.  I'd  like  pow'ful  ter 
help  yo'  all,  but  I  jes'  cayn't,  don'  yo  see?" 

"Very  well,"  I  answered  irritably,  as  I  opened  my  pocketbook  and 
counted  out  the  money  due  him.  "Only  don't  come  whining  around 
after  more  work.  I  can't  be  forever  taking  on  new  hands  and  teaching 
them  the  ropes.     I  want  men  to  stand  by  me." 

I  spoke  rather  more  vehemently  than  I  meant  to,  but  I  liked  Jock, 
and  was  very  unwilling  to  have  him  go.  He  had  only  been  with  me  a 
few  weeks,  but  was  already  worth  any  two  men  I  had.  Considerable 
over  six  feet  in  height,  and  strong  and  massive  in  proportion,  he  was 
at  once  fertile  in  expedients  and  perfectly  obedient  to  orders.  These 
two  unusual  attributes  were  what  had  recommended  him  to  me  in  the 
first  place,  for  my  experience  with  negroes  had  taught  me  that  they 
were  usually  dull  and  shiftless. 

But  Jock  was  different  from  any  man  I  had  ever  met,  white  or 
black.  He  was  an  indefatigable  hunter  and  fisherman,  and  there  was 
not  a  bird,  or  beast,  or  phase  of  wood  life  with  which  he  did  not  seem 
familiar.  And  his  familiarity  was  not  that  of  ignorance.  I  was  often 
astonished  at  the  stray  bits  of  scientific  information  which  came  un- 
consciously from  his  lips.  He  never  seemed  to  get.  weary,  and,  out  of 
work  hours,  was  usually  off  in  the  woods,,  or  busy  about  the  camp- 
fire.  Most  of  our  game  was  caught  by  him  during  the  night,  and,  in- 
deed, most  of  it  was  prepared  by  him  also,  for  he  seemed  to  know 
more  about  cooking  than  our  camp  boy  himself.  Nearly  every  day 
he  brought  me  a  delicious  stew  or  roast  which  he  had  prepared  him- 
self, and  always  presented  it  with  some  such  remark  as,  "De  doctor 
show  me  'bout  dis.    Dis  de  way  de  doctor  done  hit." 

I  was  thinking  regretfully  of  these  extra  dishes  as  I  turned  my 
instrument  around  and  sighted  back  over  the  line. 

Everything  was  all  right,  and  I  signalled  the  rear  man  to  come 
forward.  As  I  took  my  field-book  to  make  some  notes.  I  was  con- 
scious of  a  slight  touch  on  my  shoulder. 

"What,  not  gone  yet?"  I  asked. 

"No,  boss ;  I  cayn't  go  disaway.  Ef  I  ain'  come  back  no  mo'j  I 
don'  wan'  yo'  t'ink  of  me  as  no  'count  Nigger.    I  jes  bleeged  ter  go." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  I  answered,  a  little  ashamed  of  my  ill-tem- 
per. "You  needn't  mind  what  I  said  about  not  coming  back.  I  was  out 
of  sorts.    If  I  have  a  place  I  shall  be  glad  to  take  you  on  at  any  time.'* 

"T'ank  yo',  boss !  T'ank  yo',  sah !  I  like  yo'  alls'  wuk.  Yo's  de 
bes'  boss  I's  had,  'cep'n'  de  doctor." 


ttt 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  25 

I  glanced  down  the  line.  The  rear  man  was  fully  one-fourth  of  a 
mile  away  and  walking  slowly.  It  would  be  ten  minutes  before  he 
would  arrive.  I  slipped  the  field-book  into  my  pocket,  and  ^at  down 
upon  a  stump. 

*'Who  is  this  doctor  you  are  forever  talking  about,  Jock?"  I  asked. 
"I'm  getting  curious  about  him." 

Jock's  face  became  grave  once  more. 

I  fancied  I  could  see  tears  glistening  in  his  eyes.  "He's  de  bes' 
man  dat  eber  lib,  sah ;  de  bes*  man  de  good  Gawd  eber  made.  I  been 
his  body  serbent  for  ten  year,  an*  wuk  for  him,  and  watch  ober  him, 
an'  nuss  him.  I  watch  him  so  I  almos'  know  w'at  he  t'ink  about.  He 
didn'  had  no  fo'ks,  nowhars ;  an'  he  uster  to  say  dat  I  war  his'n's  fam- 
bly.  He  tuk  me  in  de  woods  w'en  he  hunts  bugs  an'  t'ings,  and  he  tuk 
me  in  de  city  w'en  he  wuk  for  de  pore  fo'ks.  He  done  let  me  he'p  in 
fnos'  eber3rt'ing  he  do.'* 

'How  came  you  to  leave  him?" 

1  didn't  leabe  him,  sah ;  he  done  lef  me.  De  good  Gawd  tuk  him. 
Wen  de  veller  fever  bruk  out  he  wuk  night  an'  day,  lak  he  allers  do. 
Mos'  eberbody  get  outen  de  city ;  but  de  pore  fo'ks  hatter  stay,  an*  de 
doctors  an'  nusses  hatter  stay  ter  look  arter  'em.  Dr.  Hatton  stan*  hit 
for  seben  week,  den  he  tuk  de  fever  an'  die." 

'Dr.  Hatton,"  I  exclaimed.    That  name  sounds  familiar." 

'Co'se  hit  do,  sah.  De  paoers  war  full  ob  hit.  De  doctor  war  a 
rich  man,  an'  he  don'  gib  bofe  his  life  an'  money  to  de  cause.  I  reckon 
de  whole  worl'  done  hear  'bout  him.  He  wuk  night  an'  day,  all  de 
time,  an'  nebber  t'ought  ob  res'." 

'And  you  remained  with  him  through  it  all?"  I  asked. 

"Ob  co'se,"  Jock  answered,  simnly.  "De  doctor  'lowed  I  war  good 
he'p.    I  war  big  an'  strone,  ar>'  could  wuk  roun'  an  lif  de  sick  fo*kes." 

"And  you  didnt  get  the  fever?" 

"No,  sah,"  showing  his  teeth  a  little.  "I  reckon  dis  nigger's  skin 
too  t'ick  for  fever  to  git  frou.  W'en  de  doctor  die  I  hab  no  wuk,  so  I 
nuss  roun'  till  de  Winter  come  an*  brek  de  fever.  Den  I  pick  up  all 
de  doctor's  t'ings.  Yo'  see,"  his  voice  growled  low  and  tremulous,  "de 
doctor  done  tole  me  sell  ebei*yt'ing  he  hab  lef  an  buy  me  a  li'l'  home 
somewhar.    T  git  fo'  hundred  dollars,  an'  come  disawav,  yo^  know?" 

I  nodded.  I  had  often  seen  and  admired  Jock's  little  vine-covered 
cottage,  and  wondered  at  his  exquisite  taste  in  shrubs  and  flowers.  On 
one  occasion,  I  had  met  him  walking  back  and  forth,  crooning  some 
strange  African  melody  to  a  pitiful  mite  of  humanity  in  his  arms. 
Perhaps  this  was  the  "HI'  boy"  he  was  so  fond  of. 

"How  old  is  your  little  boy?"  I  asked. 

"Dunno,  sah.  Reckon'  he's  a  heap  ol'er  o'  his  size,  on  'count  o' 
bein'  twisted,  an'  disj'inted.  Yo'see,  boss,  hit  didn't  'pear  ies  right  fer 
me  ter  use  de  doctor's  money  for  myse'f.  Seemed  lak  hit  orter  go 
ter  de  pore  fo'ks,  lak  de  res'  of  his  forchune.  But  dar  war  de  orders. 
So  I  buy  de  house,  an'  den  hunts  'roun,  an  fin's  de  skimpines'  pickan- 
ninny  I  kin' — one  dat  ain't  de  leastes'  able  ter  keer  for  himse'f — an'  sets 


«1 


26  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

out  ter  raise  him.  My  ol'  mammy  come  live  wid  me,  an'  he'p  look  out 
for  tings.  Den  ebery  Summer  I  goes  down  to  de  city  an'  brings  up 
a  whole  jpassel  o'  chilluns  outen  de  streets,  an'  gibs  'em  a  good  time. 
Dar's  plenty  of  melyuns  an'  sweet  'taters,  an  gyarden  truck  roun'  my 
place;  an'  off'n  I  takes  'em  out  huntin'  an'  fishin*.  I  'low  dey  done 
enj'y  hit  from  de  way  dey  projec'  roun',"  and  Jock  threw  back  his 
head  and  laughed  heartily  at  the  recollection  of  some  of  their  "pro- 
jecting."   Then  he  suddenly  became  grave. 

"Does  yo'  know,  boss,"  he  continued,  solemnly,  "hit  'pears  mighty 
strange  ter  me  sometimes,  lak  as  if  de  Lawd's  han'  war  in  hit?  Dat 
pore  li'le  pickaninny,  wa't  I  'low  ter  be  de  runties'  one  in  de  whole 
world',  is  tu'ning'  out  ter  be  sompin'  'stronery.  He  can  scrape  de 
fiddle  lak  a  bom  musicianer,  an*  for  de  banjo  an'  flute — ^hit  brings 
out  de  tears  jes*  lis'en.  Does  yo'  know,  sah,"  abruptly,  "wa't  I's  wukin' 
up  hyer  for  ?" 

To  earn  money,  I  suppose,"  I  answered. 

Dat's  hit  perzac'ly,  sail.  But  I  ain'  need  no  money  for  house- 
keepin'.  I  raises  gyarden  truck,  an'  chicken,  an'  t'ings ;  an'  I  goes  fishin' 
an*  huntin'.  No,  sah !  I's  gitting  money  for  dat  li'l'  boy's  musicianin'. 
He's  plumb  'stracted  'bout  an  orgin.  Vs  been  totain'  him  up  ter  Miss 
Hun'erford's  lately,  so  't  he  mought  lis'en  ter  her  playin'.  An'  fer  a 
fac',  sah,  dat  li'l'  boy'd  jes'  cock  his  head  on  one  side  whilst  she  played 
a  chune,  den  he'd  clomb  up  on  dat  stool  an  '  play  de  same  chune  right 
smack  frou,  ebery  dot  an'  skiver  prezac'.  Miss  Ilun'erford  'low  't  war 
truly  'stonishin'.  Yes,  sah,  dat  boy  gwyne  hah  an  orgin,  an  I's  gwyne 
hab  him  learn  play  jes'  lak  w'ite  fo'ks,  off'n  paper."  At  this  moment 
the  rear  man  came  up  and  stood  waiting  for  orders.  Jock  ducked  his 
head  and  was  turning  away,  when  I  called  him  back.  Unclasping  the 
chain  from  my  watch,  I  handed  it  to  hint. 

"Give  it  to  the  little  boy,"  I  said,  "and  tell  him  it  was  from  one  of 
his  daddy's  friends." 

The  next  week  my  chief  sent  instructions  for  me  to  repair  to  Ter- 
rebonne and  survey  some  swamp  lands.  I  had  been  there  before  and 
knew  the  place  well.  In  the  Winter  it  would  not  have  been  so  bad, 
but  now !  I  crushed  the  brief  note  impatiently  in  my  hand.  But  there 
was  no  help  for  it,  so  we  set  about  breaking  camp.  The  next  day  we 
were  ready  for  departure.  As  we  stood  on  the  platform  of  the  little 
way  station,  waiting  for  the  train,  I  saw  the  big,  well-known  figure  of 
Jock,  hurrying  up  the  track.     In  a  few  moments  he  stood  beside  me. 

"Clar'  for  hit,  boss,  I  war  'feared  I  wouldn't  cotch  up!"  he  panted. 
"I's  mos'  run  de  bref  outen  me." 

I  welcomed  him  heartilv.  His  broad  shoulders  and  knowledge  of 
woodcraft  would  be  invaluable  in  that  out-of-the-way  place.  The  terms 
of  his  service  were  quickly  arranged,  and  then  I  asked  about  the  little 
boy.  "I  dunno  for  shore  yet,  sah,"  he  said,  gravely.  "Do  doctor  'low 
he  war  in  a  bad  fix,  an'  better  be  sent  up  norf  to  a  gran*  hospital.  He 
'low  do  boy  cayn't  nebber  be  raised  lak  he  is,  but  dat  maybe  de  big  doc- 
tors mout  unwin'  de  twistcs,  and  fix  him  lak  udder  boys.     Ef  dey  do 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  27 

dat,"  with  a  rare  smile,  "FIl  shorely  t'ank  de  good  Lawd  all  de  res'  ob 
my  life." 

It  will  be  very  expensive,"  I  ventured. 

'Yes,  sah ;  so  de  doctor  tole  me.  He  'lowed  he*d  ax  Jedge  Hun'er- 
ford  ter  he'p  some,  but  I  goin'  stop  dat,"  throwing  his  head  back, 
proudly.  "I  don't  ax  no  he'p  long's  I  kin  he'p  myself.  De  liT  boy's 
mine,  an'  Vs  de  one  ter  take  car'  ob  him."  Then,  with  a  slight  quaver 
in  his  voice,  he  added,  abruptly,  "I  done  sol'  de  house,  an*  pigs,  an' 
mgs. 

"Why,  that's  too  bad !"  I  exclaimed  involuntarily.  "Wasn't  there 
any  other  way?" 

"No,  sah,  an'  de  house  an'  pigs  didn't  fotch  quite  enuf.  De  li'l* 
boy'U  hatter  be  thar  mos'  a  year,  an'  doctors'  stuff  an'  nussin'  cos's  a 
heap.  I  done  hire  a  room  for  my  ole  mammy,  an'  will  sen'*  her  som- 
pin'  ebery  mont'.  All  de  res'  mus  go  ter  de  doctor,  an'  he  'lowed  he'd 
fix  hit  all  right." 

"So  you  have  already  sent  the  boy  ?" 

"Yes,  sah.    De  doctor  done  sent  a  nuss  wid  him  yes'day." 

A  faint  whistle  in  the  distance  announced  the  approaching  train.  I 
hastily  gathered  up  my  kit  and  stood  waiting.  It  was  night  when  we 
reached  Thibodeaux.  The  next  day  we  purchased  provisions,  and  set 
out  for  the  scene  of  our  labors.  Three  months  later  I  received  instruc- 
tions to  cross  over  into  Texas.  It  was  Spring  before  we  returned  to 
Florida.  One  day  Jock  burst  into  my  tent  with  an  open  letter  in  his 
hand.  "He's  done  cured!"  he  cried,  radiantly.  "All  de  twistes  an' 
disj'ints  tuk  outen  him.  He's  comi\  home  now,  walkin'  from  de  kyars 
lak  udder  boys.  Glory  to  de  Lam' !  But  'scuse  me'  boss,"  lowering  his 
voice  suddenly.  "I's  tickled  clean  frou.  I  reckon  you'll  hatter  lemme 
off  a  few  days.    I  mus'  see  dat  liT  boy." 

"Of  course !    But  will  you  come  back?" 

"Suttin'ly,  sah!  Dar's  dat  boy's  orgin  an'  dar's  dat  home.  I'm 
g^vyne  ter  buy  back.  I  mus'  wuk  right  peart  now,  an'  mek  heaps  o' 
money.    Yes,  sah,  I'll  mos'  shorely  come  back." — Selected. 


THE  NEW  YEAR. 
We  are  standing  on  the  threshold,  we  are  in  the  open  door, 
We  are  treading  on  a  borderland  we  have  never  trod  before ; 
Another  year  is  opening,  and  another  year  is  gone, 
We  have  passed  the  darkness  of  the  night,  we  are  in  the  early  mom ; 
We  have  left  the  fields  behind  us  o'er  which  we  scattered  seed ; 
We  pass  into  the  future  which  some  of  us  can  read. 
The  corn  among  the  weeds,  the  stones,  the  surface  mold, 
May  yield  a  partial  harvest ;  we  hope  for  sixty  fold. 
Then  hasten  to  fresh  labor,  to  thresh  and  reap  and  sow, 
Then  bid  the  New  Year  welcome,  and  let  the  old  year  go ! 
Then  gather  all  your  vigor,  press  forward  in  the  fight, 
And  let  this  be  your  motto :  "For  God  and  for  the  Right."  —Selected. 


28  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


WORTHLESS   BOBBY.- 

"Please,  Mr.  Harro !  Oh,  please  try  me  a  little  longer.  A  week — 
just  one  week.    Please,  Mr.  Harro!" 

Mr.  Harro  looked  into  the  pleading  little  face  before  him,  and 
once  more  the  kind  heart  was  touched  and  softened. 

"I  can't  depend  upon  you,  Bobby,  that's  the  trouble^  you  neglect 
my  work.  Understand,  I  appreciate  your  love  for  books.  I  am  glad 
you  love  them;  but  your  first  duty  is  to  attend  to  the  business  that  I 
give  you  to  do,  and  you  don't  do  it,  Bobby ;  you  know  you  don't." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Harro,  I  will  try  to  be  good.  Take  my  books  away  from 
me,  and  try  me  just  once  more." 

"I  will  not  take  your  books  from  you,  that  would  be  no  test;  but  I 
shall  put  you  on  your  merit  once  more,  Bobby,  and  see  what  you  will 
do;  but  if  there  is  no  improvement,  it  is  your  last  chance — ^you  will 
have  to  go.  You  understand  now,  do  you?"  said  Mr.  Harro,  as  he 
stepped  into  the  carriage. 

Bobby  turned  away  to  hide  the  tears,  as  Marion  Harro,  a  sweet 
girl  of  nineteen  years,  ran  merrily  down  the  path  and  took  the  seat 
beside  her  father. 

"Well,  Marion,  that  youngster  has  gotten  the  best  of  me  again, 
and  I  have  taken  him  another  week  on  probation." 

"Dear  father,  I  am  so  glad" — her  face  brightening — "I  thought  you 
would  give  him  another  trial." 

"What  a  tender  heart  you  have,  dear ;  but  I  love  you  to  be  so ;  the 
more  of  your  sainted  mother  I  see  in  your  character  the  more  I  feel  you 
are  developing  into  the  highest  type  of  Christian  womanhood.  Foster 
it,  my  darhng;  cultivate  it;  there  are  always  plenty  to  say  the  hard, 
sharp  word,  and  under  a  cloak  of  frankness  wound  even  those  whom 
they  really  love." 

They  were  driving  along  the  beautiful  country  road  to  the  station, 
and  as  they  drew  up  to  the  platform  for  Mr.  Harro  to  alight,  Marion 
put  her  hand  tenderly  over  his  and  said,  "Dear  father,  I  am  trying  to 
be  like  her." 

"Surely  the  mantle  of  the  mother  has  fallen  upon  the  daughter," 
replied  Mr.  Harro,  with  quivering  voice,  "and  you  will  never  know,  my 
darling,  what  hope  and  joy  you  bring  into  your  father's  life." 

As  Marion  drove  leisurely  home  her  thoughts  turned  to'  Bobby. 
How  could  she  help  him?  He  was  one  of  seven,  his  father  dead,  and 
his  struggling  mother  trying  to  keep  the  family  together.  They  were 
honest  and  respectable,  but  very  poor.  Bobby  was  thirteen.  John,  the 
eldest,  a  boy  of  fifteen,  had  a  position* in  the  village  grocery  store, 
which  was  a  great  help  to  his  mother.  He  was  an  industrious,  hard- 
working boy,  but  Bobby  did  not  love  work,  and  would  shirk  everything 
that  he  possibly  could  to  pore  over  his  beloved  books.  History,  ge- 
logy,  anatomy,  astronomy — anything  that  fell  into  his  hands — he  would 
read,  and  think  %nd  wonder,  though  he  could  not  understand.    That, 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  29 

in  fact,  was  the  fascination.  He  wanted  to  know  about  things,  and  he 
knew  there  were  men  in  the  world  who  did  know,  or  these  books  would 
never  have  been  written.  Mr.  Harro,  knowing  how  the  boy  yearned 
for  an  education,  offered  to  take  him  in  his  home,  allowing  him  the 
school  privileges,  and  paying  him  well  for  doing  the  chores  about  the 
place,  thereby  laying  some  money  aside  for  his  higher  education,  for  it 
was  very  plain  that  Bobby  would  never  earn  a  living  by  the  sweat  of 
his  brow.  "Absolutely  worthless!"  was  the  opinion  nearly  everybody 
had  of  poor  Bobby,  and  it  was  through  much  apparent  tribulation  on 
their  part  that  Mr.  Harro  and  Marion  were  trying  to  make  something 
out  of  the  boy.  He  had  been  with  them  six  months,  and  Mr.  Harro, 
thoroughly  discouraged,  had  threatened  often  to  send  him  back  to  his 
mother— only  to  be  won  over  every  time  either  by  the  distress  of  the 
boy  or  the. coaxing  of  his  idolized  daughter. 

This  was  a  day  early  in  November,  and  the  light  clouds  that  had 
hovered  around  in  the  morning  thickened  and  gathered,  and  by  noon 
rain  was  falling.  A  great  storm  was  upon  them,  that  hourly  increased 
in  its  fury.  Trembling  hands  were  held  on  either  side  of  the  anxious 
faces  that  peered  into  what  was  already  the  darkness  of  night  as  faithful 
John,  who  acted  as  coachman  and  man-of-all-work  ^out  the  place, 
drove  down  the  carriage  drive  and  out  into  the  street,  on  his  way  to 
the  station  to  meet  his  master. 

Two  hours  passed  and  they  had  not  returned.  Marion  walked 
restlessly  about  the  house. 

"Where  is  Bobby,  Hannah?"  she  asked,  stopping  at  the  kitchen 
door,  where  the  odor  of  the  savory  dinner  would  have  been  most  appe- 
tizing had  it  not  been  for  the  great  anxiety  for  her  father's  safety. 

"  'Clar  to  goodness.  Miss  Marion,  I  dun  know !  Seem's  if  dat  boy 
don't  know  'nuff  to  come  in  out  a'  de  rain.  He  took  de  lantern  and 
went  out  to  de  barn,  an'  I  just  'spects  he's  scared  to  come  back." 

In  the  meantime  John  had  safely  reached  the  station,  and  after 
waiting  a  long  time  for  the  belated  train,  Mr.  Harro  finally  appeared  at 
the  carriage  door.  The  usually  sluggish  little  stream  that  ran  between 
the  home  and  the  station  was  a  river.  It  had  risen  until  even  with  the 
bridge,  and  the  opposite  end  had  loosened  from  its  foundation  and  was 
ready  to  break  away ;  but  they  did  not  know  that,  and  were  about  to 
urge  the  frightened  horse  above  the  bellowing  waters  when  they  saw 
a  lantern  swung  back  and  forth  upon  the  other  side. 

"Stop,  John,"  cried  Mr.  Harro,  quickly;  'that's  a  danger  signal." 

'I  see  it,  sir,"  said  John,  backing  the  horse  and  taking  to  the  street ; 
"that  means  a  five-mile  drive  to  the  upper  bridge." 

"Yes,  but  our  lives  are  spared.  Nothing  could  have  saved  us  if  we 
had  gotten  into  that  torrent.  I  haven't  seen  such  a  freshet  for  many 
years.  Some  brave  fellow  has  risked  his  life  for  others  in  this  storm 
tonight." 

The  upper  bridge  was  found  intact,  and  as  they  neared  home  the 
storm  seemed  to  abate  somewhat  in  its  fury.  Both  looked  with  eager 
eyes  for  the  lantern  at  the  lower  bridge.    Finally  they  reached  the  spot. 


tit 


30  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

The  light  was  still  there — but  the  bridge  was  gone !  Mr.  Harro  leaped 
from  the  carriage  to  thank  his  benefactor,  just  as  the  bearer  of  the  lan- 
tern came  rushing  forward. 

Dear,  dear  Mr.  Harro !    Are  you  safe  ?" 

'Oh,  Bobby!  Brave  little  Bobby!"  cried  Mr.  Harro;  but  Bobby 
had  fainted.  Tenderly  he  was  lifted  into  the  carriage,  and  Mr.  Harro 
supported  the  dripping,  unconscious  little  form  as  John  drove  home  as 
rapidly  as  possible. 

Weeks  of  fever  followed,  and  with  moist  eyes,  Mr.  Harro  would 
bend  over  the  little  sufferer  as  in  his  delirium  he  would  frantically 
swing  the  imaginary  lantern  or  cry  out  to  Mr.  Harro  not  to  cross  the 
treacherous  bridge. 

One  day,  while  convalescing,  Bobby  put  his  little,  thin  hand  upon 
Mr.  Harro's  and  said,  "Mr.  Harro,  I'm  afraid  to  get  well,  for  fear  I 
will  not  be  good,  and  you  will  send  me  away." 

"Why,  Bobby,  you  saved  my  life,  and  I  am  not  going  to  let  you  go 
away  from  me  again ;  this  is  your  home  now.  You  shall  go  through 
college  and  choose  for  your  life-work  whatever  you  love  best.  You 
have  a  bright  mind,  and  I  am  sure  I  shall  not  be  disappointed  in  you." 

And  be  it  said  for  Bobby  that  Mr.  Harro  was  right. — Selected. 


THE  NEW  YEAR 


The  Year  is  a  general  riding  by, 

A  general  stout  and  tall ; 
And  little  it  matters  how  hard  we  try. 

We  cannot  keep  step  at  all. 
No  matter  how  eager  and  spry,  'tis  clear 
We  cannot  keep  the  pace  with  the  mighty  Year ! 

But,  ah,  there's  a  company  called  the  Days, 

The  merry  and  brave  and  wise ; 
They  march  to  the  music  that  Duty  plays. 

Whatever  the  changing  skies. 
And  no  one  need  stumble,  and  none  need  fall. 
And  we  may  keep  step  with  them,  comrades  all. 

Make  ready ! — Salute ! — as  the  great  New  Year 

Rides  by  to  the  roll  of  drums; 
And  then  fall  in  line  with  a  soldier's  cheer 

For  each  little  Day  that  comes. 
The  Days  are  like  children  that  come  and  go — 

The  Year  can  take  care  of  himself,  you  know ! 

Cassino's  Little  Folks. 


ZADA  WOULD  SOMETIMES  FORGET  TO  SHUT  THE  GATE. 

ZADA  AND  GOO-GOO. 

BY   KATE  VERDEL. 

Goo-Goo  was  a  little  pet  pig,  and  his  mistress,  little  Zada  Weir, 
loved  and  played  with  him  as  other  children  love  and  play  with  their 
dogs  and  kittens.  She  had  no  brothers  or  sisters  and  would  have  been 
very  lonely  without  Goo-Goo.  He  was  the  roundest  fattest  little  pig 
one  ever  saw,  and  very  white,  so  that  he  didn't  look  too  much  like  a  pig 
and  everybody  had  a  smile  and  a  pleasant  word  for  him. 

The  little  pet  pig's  place  was  in  the  orchard,  but  Zada  often  took 
him  out  for  a  romp;  and  being  a  very  forgetful  little  girl,  sometimes 
when  she  put  him  back— also,  too,  sometimes  when  she  went  to  feed  him 
— she  would  forget  to  shut  the  gate.  But  this  was  just  what  Master 
Goo-Goo  wanted ;  he  often  got  lonely,  confined  in  the  orchard,  while  his 
little  mistress  was  at  school,  and  whenever  he  found  the  gate  open  he 
would  go  into  the  house  in  search  of  her,  and  if  she  was  not  there  he 
would  amuse  himself  by  tearing  up  every  thing  he  could  get  hold  of. 
Of  course  this  was  naughty,  but  being  only  a  little  pig  he  didn't  know 
that  it  was  naughty.     He  simply  thought  it  great  fun. 

The  school  which  Zada  attended  decided  one  spring  to  have  a  May- 
party,  and  Zada  was  delighted  when  her  little  friends  selected  her  for 
May  Queen. 

But  if  she  was  to  be  queen  she  would  have  to  have  a  new  dress, 
new  ribbons  and  new  slippers;  and  her  mama  said  she  was  afraid  she 
could  not  afford  them.  Mrs.  Weir  was  a  poor  widow  and  it  was  diffi- 
cult sometimes  for  her  to  make  a  living  for  herself  and  little  daughter. 

"But  we  won't  decide  until  tomorrow,"  she  said,  finally;  "perhaps 
I  can  think  of  some  way." 

"Well,  Zada,"  she  said,  next  morning,  "I  can  tell  you  a  way  by 
which  you  can  earn  the  money  yourself." 

Zada  clapped  her  hands.  "Do  tell  me  quick.  Mama,  so  I  can 
beg^n." 

"You  will  find  it  hard  at  first,"  said  Mrs.  Weir,  "but  if  you  perse- 
vere you  will  be  thankful  all  your  life.  The  May-party  is  eight  weeks 
off.  I  have  just  five  dollars,  and  if  you  will  overcome  your  habit  of 
forgetfulness  I  will  give  you  sixty-two  and  one-half  cents  of  it  a  week. 
Every  time  you  forget,  you  are  to  pay  me  back  two  cents." 


32  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

Zada  said  nothing,  only  smiled,  with  a  bright  confident  look  at  her 
mother. 

For  awhile  the  future  little  May  Queen  was  very  careful,  and  the 
first  week  had  to  pay  only  twice,  but  then  her  old  habit  returned  with 
great  force.  She  forgot  to  shut  the  orchard  gate  and  Master  Goo-Goo 
got  in  and  ruined  the  violet  bed.  She  forgot  her  overshoes  and  Goo- 
Goo  found  them  on  the  front  doorstep  and  tore  one  of  them  into  pieces. 
She  left  her  books  at  home  and  had  to  return  for  thiem  and  was  marked 
tardy  at  school. 

In  fact,  she  was  so  careless  that  her  mother  was  in  tears  at  times, 
and  little  Zada  herself  became  so  uneasy  that  she  determined  to  never 
be  6flF  her  guard,  and  sometimes  there  was  a  marked  improvement  for 
several  days  at  a  time. 

But  one  afternoon  she  went  to  the  cupboard  for  something  to  eat, 
and  on  going  through  the  room  again  soon  after  she  found  the  cup- 
board door  open. 

"Oh  dear  !'*  she  said,  "I  wonder  if  I  ought  to  pay  for  this — I  found 
it  open  myself  and  shut  it,  and  there  is  no  harm  done." 

But  Zada  was  an  honest  little  girl,  so  she  dropped  two  cents  in 
her  mother's  money-box ;  and  then  with  a  light  heart  ran  out  to  play 
with  Goo-Goo. 

But  Zada  couldn't  find  Master  Goo-Goo. 

Soon  she  heard  her  mother  calling  her.  Mrs.  Weir  looked  very 
serious  as  she  led  the  way  to  the  cupboard.  Opening  the  door  she 
pointed  to  the  little  pig  within.  The  next  day  was  Zada's  birthday  and 
Mrs.  Weir  had  made  a  cake  and  placed  it  in  the  cupboard,  intending  to 
surprise  her  little  daughter. 

The  cupboard  was  simply  shelves  put  across  one  corner  of  the  room 
with  a  door  opening  to  the  floor.  The  little  pig,  finding  the  door  open, 
had  walked  in  and  had  eaten  half  the  cake  and  was  sitting  by  the  plate 
looking  at  the  other  half,  as  if  thinking,  "I  wish  I  could  eat  it  all,  but  I 
just  can't!" 

Mrs.  Weir  was  very  annoyed  this  time ;  she  told  Zada  that  she  was 
discouraged  about  her  and  that  she  feared  she  would  have  to  sell 
Goo-Goo. 

Zada  did  do  better  for  a  while.  But  when  on  the  last  day  of  April 
she  counted  the  May-day  money  she  found  that  after  paying  for  the 
dress  (which  Mrs.  Weir  made  herself),  and  the  ribbons,  and  the  times 
she  had  ''forgotten,"  she  had  only  five  cents  left  toward  buying  the  slip- 
pers. Mrs.  Weir  had  left  all  the  counting  of  the  money  to  Zada — ^the 
little  girl  had  been  free  to  count  it  as  often  as  she  liked. 

"I  did  try,  Mama,"  she  said,  this  time,  carrying  the  solitary  nickel 
in  her  hand  to  show  her  mother. 

"I  believe  you  did,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Weir ;  "and  as  I  believe  you 
will  continue  to  try,  I  am  going  to  credit  you  for  the  balance  so  that 
you  can  buy  the  slippers." 

Then  she  and  Zada  went  out  and  brought  home  the  slippers,  which 
they  had  selected  a  week  before ;  and  Zada  was  so  delighted  to  see  all 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  33 

her  costume  together  that  she  ran  in  several  times  that  day  to  look  at 
them.  She  was  sure  no  one  ever  had  had  such  a  pretty  dress  and  slip- 
pers before. 

In  the  evening  Miss  Milton,  the  teacher,  and  some  of  the  girls  came 
round,  and  while  they  were  talking  of  the  best  way  to  fasten  a  crown 
on,  they  heard  a  noise  in  the  next  room — ^bip !  bumpity-bump-bip,  gooo ! 
goooo !  bump-bip ! 

Zada,  followed  by  all  the  others,  ran  to  see  what  it  meant.  There 
was  a  dismayed  cry.  The  fat  little  pig  came  running  out,  followed  by 
Zada  with  the  ^precious  May-party  dress  in  her  hands.  But  oh,  oh ! 
what  a  sight!  Master  Goo-Goo  had  torn  the  dress  almost  into  shreds. 
The  little  May  Queen  dropped  it  on  the  floor  and  hid  her  tears  in  her 
mother's  lap. 

Mrs.  Weir  could  but  cry  with  her,  and  the  teacher  looked  heart- 
sick. 

"Oh,  Mama,"  Zada  sobbed,  "I  had  been  to  look  at  my  dress  and 
when  I  heard  Miss  Milton  and  the  girls  come  in  I  laid  it  across  a  chair 
and  forgot  to  shut  the  door  and  Goo-Goo — he  got  in  and  found  it." 

Poor  Zada !  She  could  not  be  May  Queen  and  it  nearly  broke  her 
heart.  But  her  trouble  cured  her  of  her  unfortunate  habit.  She  is 
nine  years  old  now,  and  has  become  a  remarkably  careful  little  girl. 

As  for  Master  Goo-Goo,  he  still  lives  in  the  orchard,  and  doubtless 
would  often  get  out  if  he  could,  but  never  finds  the  gate  open,  and  Zada 
and  he  have  many  a  long  walk  and  talk  under  the  trees,  but  he  is  going 
away  next  year  I  hear. 

AT  THE  OLD  RED  MILL. 

BY  CHARLES  T.  WHITE. 

"They're  beginning  work  on  the  old  mill  today,  I  understand,"  Mr. 
Tait  observed  at  the  breakfast  table.  "Fm  sorry  to  see  it  go  down.  It's 
stood  there  ever  since  I  can  remember,  but  we  must  have  improvements, 
I  suppose."  * 

"The  Smith  brothers  are  going  to  put  up  the  new  shirt  factory  on 
that  site,  aren't  they?"  inquired  George,  the  oldest  son.  "That's  what 
I  hear  down  town." 

Mr.  Tait  nodded.  "They  have  bought  the  property,  and  everything 
that  comes  into  their  hands  turns  into  a  shirt  factory,  sooner  or  later," 
he  said  laughing.  "I  don't  think  anybody  knows  much  about  their 
plans,  in  this  case,  but  themselves." 

There  was  some  further  discussion  of  the  subject  before  Greorge 
pushed  back  his  chair,  and  after  a  glance  at  his  watch,  hurried  away 
to  catch  his  car  to  the  city.  Fred,  the  youngest  member  of  the  Tait 
family,  had  been  an  interested  listener,  though  he  took  no  part  in  the 
conversation.  What  healthy  boy  of  fourteen  does  not  lend  an  attentive 
ear  to  the  report  of  something  unusual  going  on  in  a  place  so  quiet  as 
Brentwood !  He  mentally  resolved  to  go  down  to  the  mill  the  minute 
he  had  swallowed  the  last  of  his  oatmeal,  and  see  for  himself. 


34  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

"The  old  red  mill"  was  something  of  a  landmark  in  Brentwood. 
Many  of  the  houses  in  town  were  built  of  lumber  which  had  been  sawed 
there,  and  not  a  few  of  the  older  men  in  the  little  village  remembered 
going  to  ''Dunning*s"  with  "grists"  for  grinding  when  they  were  small 
boys.  It  had  been  disused  for  several  years,  and  nobody,  looking  at  the 
gray,  weather-beaten  front,  would  have  imagined  that  it  once  had  been 
red.  A  half-dozen  men,  or  more,  were  busily  at  work  upon  the  old 
building,  with  saws  and  axes  and  pinch  bars,  when  Fred  sauntered  up 
a  half  hour  later. 

"Where's  your  ax,  young  man?"  shouted  one  of  the  workmen 
gayly.  He  paused  in  his  work,  grinning  at  Fred  good-naturedly. 
"Twenty-five  dollars  fine  for  all  loungers  found  on  these  premises." 

"I  g^ess  rU  be  going  on,  then,"  Fred  replied,  carrying  out  the 
joke,  and  making  pretense  of  moving  along. 

"Better  let  me  put  your  name  on  the  pay  roll,"  said  a  well-dressed 
young  fellow,  who  appeared  to  be  overseeing  the  job.  "^'We've  been 
looking  for  a  boy  just  about  your  size  to  break  up  kindlings  and  fill 
these  barrels.     What  do  you  say  ?" 

Fred  was  not  ready  at  that  minute  to  say  anything.  He  was  an 
ambitious  boy,  not  afraid  of  work,  and  he  wanted  a  tent  and  camp  outfit 
for  the  next  summer's  outing  in  the  woods.  The  school  was  to  be 
closed  for  the  week  following  on  account  of  the  prncif>ars  illness  and — 

"You  may  think  it  over.  We'll  g^ve  you  seventy-five  cents  a  day, 
if  you're  as  good  as  you  look,  or,  you  can  fill  thf  barrels  by  the  piece. 
Be  on  hand  bright  and  early  Monday  morning."  The  young  man 
bustled  away  to  answer  a  call  from  one  of  the  workmen. 

Fred's  parents  had  no  objection  to  his  project,  and,  as  for  Fred 
himself,  the  more  he  thought  of  it,  the  better  he  liked  it.  If  there  was 
a  full  week's  work,  four  dollars  and  a  half  would  be  a  very  comfortable 
sum.  The  November  winds  were  chilly,  and  an  occasional  sifting  of 
snow  on  the  old  boards  might  make  a  fellow's  fingers  tingle  these  morn- 
ings, but  what  of  that?  Fred  had  a  stout  heart,  and.  though  his  father 
was  fairly  well-to-do,  and  he  never  had  been  put  to  hard  work,  he  had 
no  foolish  notions  about  its  being  beneath  his  dignity. 

The  first  day  at  the  mill  was  a  good  deal  of  a  success.  Much  of 
the  lumber  in  the  building  was  practically  worthless.  Fred  overheard 
the  young  man  telling  a  passer-by  that  it  would  a  little  more  than  pay 
the  cost  of  working  it  up  into  short  lengths,  and  packing  into  barrels 
for  kindlings,  and  that  the  barrels  could  be  sold  to  parties  in  the  city 
for  thirty  cents  apiece.  During  the  afternoon,  the  elder  Mr.  Smith,  a 
pleasant-faced  gentleman,  with  grayish  hair  and  eyeglasses,  overlooked 
the  work  for  an  hour  or  two,  making  careful  measurements  with  what 
looked  like  an  enormously  long  tapeline  wound  on  a  spring  reel,  and 
talking  to  the  voung  man  in  charge  in  low,  short,  snappy  sentences. 

"You  have  a  fellow  on  this  job,  I  see,  Allison.'  Fred  heard  Mr. 
Smith  say,  as  the  two  approached  the  place  where  he  was  at  work. 
"That's  all  right.  Yes,  certainly.  Mrs.  Redding's  boy  was  up  this 
morning,  inquiring  about  it.     I  wasn't  just  sure — "     Fred  lost  some 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  35 

words  here  as  the  men  passed  on,  but  what  he  heard  sounded  like  this : 
"Sick  all  winter  *  *  *  sorry  we  couldn't,  but  then  *  *  *  * 
pretty  hard  up." 

Fred's  first  feeling  was  one  of  self-importance.  There  is  a  certain 
satisfaction  in  holding  a  place  in  the  world's  work  which  somebody  else 
would  be  glad  to  get,  if  he  could.  Fred  squared  his  rather  narrow 
shoulders,  in  spite  of  a  back  which  ached  distressingly  with  the  unac- 
customed labor.  He  remembered  Tad  Redding  well  enough — all  the 
boys  called  him  Tad — ^a  pasty-faced  lad,  whose  baggy  trousers  always 
raised  the  suspicion  that  .they  had  been  made  for  some  other  person. 
Yes,  it  must  be  Tad.  No  doubt  Tad  would  be  glad  of  this  job-— or  of 
any  other,  for  that  matter — but — well — he  was  here  first.  Fred  smiled 
complacently,  bringing  his  ax  down  hard  upon  a  short  block,  which  one 
of  the  men  had  sawed  from  the  end  of  a  beam. 

Fred  walked  home  slowly  that  afternoon,  when  the  day's  work  was 
over.  He  did  not  whistle,  as  a  merry-hearted  young  workman  might 
be  expected  to  do,  and  his  face  was  more  than  usually  thoughtful.  It 
wasn't  his  being  tired  altogether,  either,  though  he  was  tired  out,  and 
no  mistake.  Somehow,  Tad  Redding's  pale,  wistful  face  had  been  play- 
ing pranks  with  his  fancy  for  the  last  hour  or  two.  It  must  be  tough 
to  be  poor,  and  not  have  clothes  and  things  like  other  fellows.  Maybe 
it  was  Tad's  mother  who  had  been  sick  all  winter.  Having  a  fellow's 
mother  sick  would  be  worse,  by  a  good  deal,  than  having  to  wear  shabby 
clothes.  Fred  felt  sure  he  should  be  shabby  himself,  if  his  mother  were 
sick,  even  for  a  week.  Wasn't  it  a  little  strange  that  a  caller  at  the 
Taits  that  very  evening  should  mention  Tad's  mother  at  the  time  of  all 
others  when  Fred's  thoughts  were  busy  with  Tad  ? 

"Mrs.  Redding  came  around  last  Saturday  to  get  my  washing 
again,"  the  lady  was  saying,  and  Fred  became  suddenly  attentive. 
"You  see  she  was  sick  so  long  that  I  really  had  to  engage  some  one 
else,  and  I  didn't  feel  that  I  could  turn  Bridget  off  without  any  good 
reason.  Mrs.  Redding  doesn't  look  as  if  she  could  go  about,  poor 
woman !  to  say  nothing  of  working.  But,  I  suppose,  it's  a  case  of  must 
with  her.  She  told  me  her  rent  was  overdue  for  three  months,  and  that 
Mr.  Dallas  wouldn't  wait  much  longer." 

Fred  awaited  the  arrival  of  the  elder  Mr.  Smith  at  the  mill  next 
morning,  a  shade  of  impatience  showing  on  his  frank,  boyish  face.  To 
give  up  his  job  the  second  day  would  call  out  a  volley  of  sarcastic  jokes 
from  George,  but  he  didn't  care — not  so  very  much.  He  sidled  up  to 
the  wealthy  owner  of  a  dozen  shirt  shops  in  as  many  towns  adjoining, 
a  good  deal  embarrassed,  but  with  his  mind  fully  made  up. 

"If  you  don't  mind,  Mr.  Smith,  I'd  like  to— to  resign."  The  gray 
eyes  behind  the  spectacles  twinkled.  "I'd  like  Tad  to  have  it — ^Tad 
Redding,  I  mean.  I  guess  he  needs  it  more.  I  like  the  work  first-rate, 
but—" 

The  gentleman  laid  a  hand  kindly  on  Fred's  shoulder.  "Yes,  yes, 
I  see.    Very  well.    FU  send  for  Redding  at  once." 


THE  BABY  NEW  YEAR. 

BY  S.  B.  PEARSE, 

Pray  what  can  these  queer  little  goblins  and  elves 

Tic  prattling  and  peeping  at  all  by  themselves? 

Why,  something  asleep  they  have  suddenly  found — 

Oh,  something  so  lovely  and  tiny  and  round ! 

He's  neither  a  goblin  nor  imp,  they  can  see, 

Yet  what  in'the  world  can  he  possibly  be  ? 

They've  counted  his  fingers,  they've  counted  his  toes, 

They've  laughed  at  his  dimples  and  dear  little  nose. 

"I'll  give  him  a  poke,"  says  one  merry  young  elf, 

A-seeking  to  find  out  the  secret  himself. 

And  then,  as  he  opens  his  pretty  blue  eyes. 

They  know  he  has  surely  come  down  from  the  skies — 

They  know  the  dear  angels  have  sent,  with  their  love, 

A  little  New  Year,  just  as  pure  as  a  Jove! 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  37 

HOW  THE  DOLLS  HELPED  ISABEL. 

Monday  morning  in  vacation  is  horrid.  Isabel  thought  so,  as  she 
ruefully  eyed  the  big  pile  of  breakfast  dishes.  Washday  mamma  always 
did  the  dining-room  and  kitchen  work,  while  Janet  was  busy  in  the 
laimdry,  and  always  in  vacation  time  Isabel  had  to  help.  Today  mam- 
ma had  some  extra  work,  and  it  was  Isabel's  task  to  wash  and  dry  the 
dishes  all  alone. 

"They're  just  mountains  high !"  she  declared. 

They  wem't  at  all,  though  I  must  confess  that  there  were  a  good 
many  of  them. 

When  mamma  liad  called  to  her  the  dishes  were  ready,  Isabel  was 
busy  playing  with  her  numerous  family  of  dolls.  Very  reluctantly  she 
laid  Gertrude  Maud  back  into  her  bed,  and  covered  Gladys  Emily  tare- 
fully  iri  the  doll-carriage,  and  started  with  lagging  footsteps  toward  the 
kitchen. 

She  filled  the  big  dish-pan  with  hot  water,  and  gave  the  glasses, 
then  the  silver,  their  morning  bath.  Somehow  the  large  kitchen  seemed 
lonely  without  either  mamma  or  Janet,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  sun- 
shine was  streaming  in  brightly  through  the  windows.  Then  a  sudden 
thought  came  to  her. 

"I'll  bring  the  dolls  out  here  and  make  believe  they  are  helping 
me,"  she  said  to  herself. 

So  Gertrude  Maud  and  Gladys  Emily  and  the  smaller  dolls,  Hetty 
and  Lillian,  and  black  Alice  with  her  apron  and  turban  looking  very 
much  fitted  for  her  task,  were  all  seated  in  a  row  on  the  big  table,  with 
their  backs  against  the  wall  and  their  feet  sticking  out  straight  in  front 
of  them. 

Then  Isabel  began  her  game.  "The  plates  you  shall  wash  and 
wipe,"  she  said,  addressing  Gertrude  Maud,  "'cause  you're  the  biggest." 

So  Isabel  carefully  washed  and  wiped  the  plates,  and  placed  them 
in  front  of  Gertrude. 

"And  the  cups  and  saucers  belong  to  you,  Gladys.  Be  sure  to  do 
them  nicely,"  she  said.  Then  they  were  done,  and  piled  on  the  table 
by  Gladys. 

The  smaller  dolls,  Hetty  and  Lillian,  had  the  little  butterplates 
and  oatmeal  dishes  to  do. 

It  was  great  fun.  Isabel  made  believe  they  didn't  want  to  do  them 
at  all,  and  then  had  to  scold  them  a  little  and  remind  them  that  such 
tasks  had  to  be  done  by  little  girls,  and  it  was  well  to  learn  how  to  do 
them  properly. 

Black  Alice  had  the  frying-pan  and  oat-meal-pot  to  do.  But  the 
next  time  Isabel  had  the  dishes  to  do  alone,  and  the  dollies  helped, 
Gertrude  Maud  did  the  pans,  "cause  it  doesn't  seem  fair,  just  'cause 
she's  black  for  her  to  do  the  hard  part  always." 

When  mamma  came  in  and  saw  the  row  of  dollies  and  the  nicely 
washed  dishes,  she  was  much  pleased  with  Isabel's  little  game  of  dish- 
washing and  dolls. — ^Woman's  Home  Companion. 


PKESCENDIA    L.    KninALL. 

A  WOMAN'S  COURAGE. 

During  the  early  days  of  the  pioneers  in  Utah,  Heber  C.  Kimball 
lirophecied  of  the  famine  that  was  to  come.  All  of  President  Kimball's 
family,  as  well  as  others,  believed  that  this  prophecy  would  be  fulfilled, 
and  they  stored  away  grain  and  flour  against  the  time  of  need.  But, 
alas,  there  were  many  totally  unprepared,  and  when  the  dreaded  time 
arrived,  were  compelled  to  seek  the  assistance  and  aid  of  the  wise  and 
prudent. 

Sister  Presendia  Kimball  had  plenty  of  flour  for  herself  and  family, 
and  they  could  eat  and  enjoy  bread  every  day.  Each  day  a  large  batch 
of  bread  was  baked  and  distributed  to  those  in  need.  But  Sister  Kim- 
ball desired  to  do  more  than  this ;  each  day  a  very  small  portion  of  the 
bread  was  baked  and  reserved  for  the  family,  and  Sister  Kimball  peti- 
tioned the  Lord  to  take  away  from  her  the  desire  for  bread,  that  she 
might  be  satisfied  with  other  and  less  desirable  food,  that  she  might  be 
able  to  give  her  own  share  away,  and  all  through  the  days  of  the  famine 
this  noble  woman  prepared  with  her  own  hands  batches  of  good  bread 
and  passed  it  away  for  others  to  enjoy. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  39 


TEDDY'S  ORPHAN  'SYLUM. 

Teddy  and  his  mamma  did  not  go  away  for  a  nice  trip  during  the 
Summer,  as  they  nearly  always  did,  and  yet  Teddy  decided  it  was  the 
very  nicest  Summer  he  had  ever  spent,  for  each  afternoon  he  and  his 
mamma  made  delightful  little  trips,  sometimes  on  the  street  car,  but 
often  taking  long  walks  to  the  parks  and  out-of-the-way  places  where 
everyone  did  not  go. 

But  the  place  that  pleased  him  best  was  the  great  orphan  asylum, 
where  they  spent  one  afternoon.  Mrs.  Baylor  knew  the  matron,  who 
took  great  pleasure  in  showing  them  over  the  house  and  beautiful 
grounds  and  telling  them  about  the  many  children  who  had  found  a 
home  there. 

"She's  like  the  old  woman  who  lives  in  a  shoe,  isn't  she,  mamma?" 
Teddy  whispered,  as  the  children  flocked  about  her,  asking  different 
things.  And  long  after  the  visit  he  would  ask  questions  about  the  little 
orphans — ^what  they  were  doing,  what  did  they  eat — until  at  last  his 
papa  said  he  wished  he  had  an  orphan  asylum  all  his  own  to  take  care 
of.  And,  strange  to  say,  he  did  the  very  day  his  papa  said  that.  And 
you  could  never  guess  what  sort  of  one  it  was,  for,  of  course,  Teddy 
couldn't  be  a  "matron"  to  a  lot  of  children,  as  he  was  a  little  boy. 

The  pride  of  his  heart  was  a  great  white  "Bunny,"  so  gentle  it 
ate  out  of  his  hands.  He  was  wild  with  delight  when  he  found  one  day 
she  had  ten  tiny  baby  rabbits — ^black  and  white,  gray  and  black,  and 
some  all  white  ones.  He  was  so  proud  of  his  pets  he  scarcely  wanted 
to  leave  them,  even  to  take  "trips"  with  his  mamma.  "" 

But  one  morning  when  he  got  up,  what  should  meet  his  eyes  but 
his  dear  "Mamma  Bunny"  lying  dead  just  outside  his  yard.  His  friend 
next  door  came  running  over  to  report  the  accident.  A  dog  belonging 
to  a  boy  in  the  next  street  pounced  on  the  poor  rabbit,  killing  it  in- 
stantly. 

Teddy's  first  thought  was  of  the  poor  motherless  bunnies  out  in  the 
shed.  With  tears  streaming  down  his  cheeks  he  ran  to  tell  mamma 
and  papa  of  the  tragedy. 

"It  seems  you  have  an  orphan  'sylum  of  your  own  now,  Teddy," 
papa  said. 

And  through  his  tears  Teddy  had  to  laugh.  Sure  enough,  he  had 
ten  little  orphans  on  his  hands,  and  orphans  only  three  weeks  old,  too! 
He  thought  of  the  matron  out  at  the  "Children's  Home,"  and  felt  much 
as  she  felt,  he  was  sure. 

From  that  day  he  began  to  care  fcjr  his  little  orphans,  and  it  took 
a  great  deal  of  his  time.  He  had  grass  to  pull  and  lettuce  leaves  to 
eret  from  the  grocer  nearby,  and  boxes  to  keep  in  good  order.  A  frisky 
little  ten  they  proved,  but  Teddy  was  patient,  knowing  they  had  no 
mother. 

T  think  you'd  better  put  som^  of  your  little  orphans  out  in  good 


n^ 


40  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

homes,  Teddy,"  his  papa  said  one  day.  "School  begins  and  you  can't 
give  all  your  time  to  your  'orphan  'sylum/  I  know  a  boy  who  will  buy 
them  all  and  let  you  have  a  pair  of  old  ones  who  will  know  how  to 
take  care  of  themselves  better.  I  must  say  you've  been  a  faithful  boy, 
though." 

"That  afternoon  at  the  orphan  'sylum  showed  me  many  things, 
papa — how  helpless  little  things  are  without  any  mamma.  Somebody's 
got  to  take  care  of  them.  I  raised  ten,"  Teddy  said,  proudly. — Child's 
Gem. 


RESOLVED. 

BY  AMANDA  K.  GLEN. 


That  I  think  twice  before  I  speak. 

Then  when  I  do  speak  it  will  be  gently. 

That  my  thoughts  of  others  are  noble  and  just. 

That  I  condemn  no  one. 

That  I  help  others  to  help  themselves. 

That  I  give  encouragement. 
,    That  T  speak  of  health,  happiness  and  success. 

That  I  love  all  beauty  and  hate  all  vileness. 

That  I  respect  others  as  myself. 

That  I  develop  strength  and  patience. 

That  I  love  each  one — even  the  creeping  things  of  earth. 

That  I  breathe  with  deep,  healthful  thoughts. 

That  I  eat  pure  food,  slowly  and  reposefully. 

That  I  become  filled  with  knowledge  and  wisdom  from  life's  les- 
sons. 

That  T  love  all  my  fellowmen  and  believe  in  co-operation  and 
brotherhood. 


JANUARY. 

Fm  little  January 

Perhaps  you  do  not  know 
How  far  I've  come  to  see  you 

Across  the  fields  of  snow. 

I've  lots  of  little  sisters, 

A  little  brother,  too, 
And  every  one  is  coming 

To  make  a  call  on  you. 

But  I  got  ready  quickly. 

And  came  right  straight  oflF  here, 
To  be  the  first  to  greet  you, 

This  happy,  bright  New  Year. 

— ^The  Youth's  Companion, 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  41 


HOW  BOOKS  GROW 

BY  S.    H.   GREEN. 

Tom's  uncle  Henry  had  been  a  colonel  in  the  army,  and  Tom,  who 
was  very  fond  of  his  uncle,  was  proud  of  this  fact.  Tom  was  fond  of 
books,  too ;  and  as  he  sat  intently  poring  over  a  large  volume,  one  day. 
Uncle  Henry  came  in. 

"Ho — ^ho !"  said  the  colonel,  "what  have  we  here  ?" 

"A  book  of  the  Cuban  War,"  answered  Tom. 

"Did  you  ever  stop  to  think  how  books  grow?"  asked  Uncle 
Henry. 

"Grow !"  exclaimed  Tom.    "Books  can't  grow." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  they  are  made." 

"Made  of  what?" 

"Of  paper,"  said  Tom. 

"And  of  what  is  paper  made  ?" 

"Rags." 

"And  of  what,  pray,  are  rags  made  ?" 

"Linen  and  cotton." 

"And  linen  and  cotton?" 

Tom  began  to  laugh  a  little. 

"They — grow,"  he  said,  looking  a  bit  sheepish. 

"Oh,  they  do,  do  they?"  Uncle  Henry  laughed,  too.  "Whole 
webs  of  linen  grow  right  on  the  bush  ?" 

"No,"  said  Tom;  "I  know  a  little.  Linen  is  made  of  flax,  and 
flax  grows."' 

Uncle  Henry  laughed.  "And  is  paper  the  only  material  used  in 
book-making?"  he  asked. 

Tom  looked  at  the  handsome  cover  in  his  hand.  "No,  the  backs 
are  often  made  of  leather,  and  leather  is  from  the  skin  of  animals." 

"Yes,"  said  Uncle  Henry,  "but  there  was  not  in  all  the  world  a 
book  in  the  English  langfuage  until  about  four  hundred  years  ago." 

"I  call  that  a  good  while,"  said  Tom. 

"But  there  were  poems,"  said  Uncle  Henry,  "thousands  of  lines 
long,  before  a  book  ever  was  printed.  There- were  learned  men  in 
ancient  times,  called  bards,  who  went  about  singing  these  poems.  They 
had  wonderful  memories,  because  they  took  pains  to  cultivate  them. 
They  had  no  books  to  look  at  if  they  forgot — so  they  had  to  remember. 

"The  earliest  English  poem  of  which  we  have  knowledge  is  that 
of  the  romantic  tale  of  Beowulf.  This  poem  has  six  thousand  or  seven 
thousand  lines.  How  do  you  think  you  would  do  at  reciting  a  poem 
of  that  length,  and  no  prompting?" 

'Not  very  well,"  said  Tom. 

'This  poem,"  Uncle   Henry  continued,  "tells  how   Beowulf,  a 


"1 


42  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

m 

nephew  of  the  king  of  the  West  Goths,  sailed  away  in  a  *foamy-necked 
ship'  over  the  'swan  path.'  He  was  noble  and  generous,  and  performed 
the  most  wonderful,  brave  deeds  for  his  fellow-men. 

"These  songs  were  generally  of  wonderful  adventure.  On  gala 
days  those  old  Saxon  chieftains  called  a  bard,  who  came  bringing  a 
lyre,  and  chanted  those  ancient  poems,  while  the  assembled  guests 
drank  and  feasted. 

"You  see,  in  those  days,  the  books  were  only  in  the  heads  of  the 
persons  who  composed  them,  or  who  had  learned  them  *by  heart.'  But 
as  early  as  1200  another  step  was  taken.  Monks  began  to  write  things, 
in  order  to  preserve  them,  devoting  their  lives  to  this  work.  Think  of 
the  time  and  labor !  Hour  after  hour,  bending  over  their  rude  tables, 
with  pens  made  of  reeds  and  quills  and  fine,  hair  brushes,  with  which 
to  ornament  the  letters!  This  was  done  in  purple  and  red  and  other 
brilliant-hued  inks,  and  gold  and  silver  sizing. 

"Those  richly  ornamented  pages  were  very  beautiful.  It  took  days 
and  weeks,  and  even  years,  sometimes  to  finish  one.  Some  of  those 
volumes  are  now  carefully  treasured  in  mqseums,  and  could  not  be 
bought  for  their  weight  in  gold.  But  this  was  a  slow  way  of  book- 
making,  and  no  common  person  ever  could  hope  to  buy  one.  So  Wil- 
liam Caxton,  after  many  eflforts,  at  last  succeeded  in  setting  up  a  print- 
ing press  in  England.  This  was  while  Henry  the  Sixth  was  king.  Do 
you  know  how  long  ago  that  was  ?" 

■No,"  said  Tom. 

'Well,  find  that  out.  It'll  not  do  to  tell  a  boy  too  much.  It  helps 
him  to  remember  to  find  out  things  for  himself. 

"By  and  by,  some  one  thought  to  make  wood  cuts,  which  were 
printed  in  books.  I  do  not  know,  myself,  who  that  was.  And  so  you 
see,"  continued  Uncle  Henry,  "thoughts  were  the  seeds  which  grew 
and  blossomed,  and  grew  and  blossomed  again,  until  now  we  have, 
for  example,  this  book  of  yours.    Let  me  see  it,  please." 

Tom  handed  him  the  book,  and  Uncle  Henry  read  the  title,  "A 
Story  of  the  Cuban  War."  Then  he  turned  the  leaves.  "Very  fine !"  he 
said.  "These  illustrations  are  beautiful  and  very  true.  I  have  seen 
many  of  these  places  myself. 

"Now,  let  us  see  how  this  book  has  grown.  First,  there  were  the 
Cubans  for  many  years  downtrodden  and  persecuted  by  Spain.  On 
the  Spanish  side  was  the  thought  of  being  master.  On  the  side  of  the 
Cubans,  the  thought  of  liberty.  The  two  thoughts  clashed.  So  the 
people  clashed,  and  went  to  war  over  it,  with  bitter  hate  on  both  sides. 

"Then  the  thought  of  making  Cuba  a  free  and  happy  land  sprang 
up  in  American  hearts.  Uncle  Sam  sent  his  brave  men  down  to  help 
the  poor,  struggling  Cubans,  and  now  their  beautiful  island  is  free 
from  the  Spanish  yoke. 

"So,  you  see,  the  seeds  of  this  book  were  planted,  at  least,  as  long 
ago  as  when  the  Spaniards  first  took  possession  of  Cuba.  They  have 
grown  and  grown,  and  now  the  book  has  blossomed  out. 

"If  I  had  time,  I  could  tell  you  something  of  the  ways  by  which 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  43 

the  art  of  picture-making  has  grown ;  of  the  material  and  instruments 
used  in  making  them.  Besides  author  and  artists,  there  were  the  print- 
ers and  printing  press  and  bookbinders,  and  people  who  prepared  all 
the  material  and  instruments  for  this  host  of  other  people  to  work 
with,  before  the  books  could  be  bought.  So  you  see,  Master  Thomas, 
that  a  large  part  of  the  whole  world  had  been  at  work  getting  this  book 
ready  for  you.  Now  read  it  carefully,  see  what  lessons  you  can  draw 
from  it,  and  remember  that  a  thought  once  planted  is  sure  to  grow.  It 
may  not  always  blossom  into  a  book,  but  grow  and  grow  it  will.  There 
is  no  end  to  it.  So,  my  boy,  be  careful  what  seed  you  sow  in  order 
that  the  harvest  may  be  good. 


HOW  FRED  WON  A  FRIEND. 

BY  J.  L.  HERON. 

"So  Tom  broke  through  the  ice,"  said  Mr.  Baxter,  the  teacher  of 
the  district  school,  as  he  joined  Fred  Day,  a  boy  twelve  years  of  age, 
on  his  way  to  school  one  bright,  cold  morning  in  January. 

"Yes,  sir,  and  it  was  lucky  for  him  that  I  happened  to  be  down 
there,"  replied  the  boy. 

'Why,  what  did  you  do  ?    You  are  a  little  boy  compared  to  Tom  ?" 

"Well,  sir,  I  helped  him'out." 

"Tell  me  how  it  happened,  Fred,"  and  the  teacher  looked  into  the 
bright  face  of  the  boy  at  his  side.  "You  know  Tom  has  been  forbidden 
to  go  on  the  ice  by  both  his  father  and  me." 

"Yes,  sir,  I  know  that,  and  I  warned  him  not  to  go,  but  he  only 
laughed  at  me,  and  said,  'Mind  you  own  business,  and  don't  tell  every- 
thing you  know.'  I  was  going  over  to  Mrs.  Brown's  for  my  mother, 
sir,  but  when  I  saw  that  Tom  was  surely  going  on  the  ice,  I  just  waited 
round  the  turn  of  the  pond ;  for  some  way,  sir,  I  felt  sure  that  Tom 
would  get  into  trouble  and  would  need  someone  to  help  him,  and  I 
wanted  to  be  the  one  to  do  it." 

"Well,  you  waited ;  what  then  ?"  asked  the  teacher. 

"Tom  started  round  the  pond  near  the  edge,  where  it  was  safe, 
and  seemed  to  be  having  a  good  time,  but  pretty  soon  he  went  over 
toward  the  little  bridge.  I  called  to  him  to  stop;  that  it  was  thin 
over  there.  But  he  only  called  back,  *Mind  your  own  business,  old 
man,  and  don't  bother  me.'  I  ran  out  on  the  bridge,  for  I  knew  he 
would  break  through.  You  see,  sir,  I  had  a  rope  with  me  that  I  was 
going  to  tie  a  basket  on  my  sled  with  for  my  mother,  so  I  undid  it  as  I 
ran,  and  not  any  too  soon,  for  just  then  there  was  a  crash  and  a  cry, 
and  Tom  was  down  in  the  water.  I  threw  the  rope  over  to  him  and  he 
caught  it.  I  fastened  it  to  the  bridge  the  best  I  could.  Then  I  got  a 
board  that  happened  to  be  on  the  bridge  and  slid  it  out  on  the  ice  to 
him,  and  he  managed  to  pull  himself  out  of  the  water  and  get  hold  of 


44  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

the  board,  and  then  he  kind  of  worked  his  way  on  to  solid  ice.  I  don't 
nnite  know  how  he  did  it,  sir,  but  he  did ;  and  he  says  that  I  saved  his 
life." 

"There  is  no  doubt  of  that,  Fred,"  said  the  teacher.  'But  what  I 
^^^^nt  to  know  is,  why  you  took  so  much  interest  in  Tom,  when  he  has 
plwavs  been  your  enemy.  At  any  rate  he  has  never  been  kind  to  you, 
and  T  fear  has  told  lies  about  vou  more  than  once,  Fred." 

"Yes,  I  know  that,  sir:  but  then,  you  see  I  wanted  to  win  him. 
Mother  has  always  told  me  that  an  enemy  could  be  won  bv  kindness, 
and  that  I  must  love  my  enemies,  so  I  just  stayed  by  to  help  him.  Tom 
<:ays  that  if  it  had  not  been  for  me  he  would  have  drowned,  and  that  he 
1*5  now  mv  friend  for  all  time.  I  do  not  want  his  help,  sir,  but  I  do  want 
his  friendship,  and  I  g^ess  I  have  it  now." 

"Yes,  my  h'ttle  man,  you  have  it  without  a  doubt ;  and  that  is  the 
way  to  win.  If  more  people  practiced  that  way  there  would  be  many 
more  good  men  and  boys  in  this  world.  You  feel  very  sure  that  Tom 
is  your  friend  now;  that  he  will  not  forget:  will  not  call  you  names 
again  and  try  to  get  you  into  trouble?" 

"Oh,  yes,  sir.  He  came  over  to  see  mother  and  me  the  next  day, 
and  he  said  that  he  was  ashamed  of  the  way  he  had  treated  me,  and 
that  he  could  never  do  enough  for  me,  or  thank  me  enough  for  saving 
his  life.  But  mother  told  him  to  thank  God  for  saving  his  life,  and 
that  he  must  try  to  be  more  obedient  in  the  future  and  kind  to  those 
around  him.  Oh,  mother  talked  to  him  a  lot,  and  he  promised  to  try 
to  do  right  after  this." 

"You  are  a  fine  boy,  Fred,  and  I  am  proud  to  call  you  my  friend, 
though  you  are  but  a  little  boy.  Some  day  you  will  be  a  good,  noble 
man,  for  you  have  the  mother  that  will  make  you  one.  God  bless  you, 
and  all  such  mothers !" 


A  PAPER  OF  PINS. 


Pins  were  introduced  in  the  sixteenth  century. 

Then  they  were  costly  and  highly  prized  as  gifts. 

A  paper  of  pins  was  more  acceptable  than  a  bouquet. 

An  act  was  passed  in  1543  making  it  illegal  to  charge  more  than 
eightpence  a  thousand  for  metal  pins. 

Persons  of  quality  often  used  pins  made  of  boxwood,  bone,  and 
silver,  while  the  poor  put  up  with  wooden  skewers. 

In  those  days  husbands  were  often  surprised  at  the  great  amount 
of  money  that  went  for  pins :  hence  the  term  "pin  money." 

Not  so  many  years  ago  the  frugal  American  housewife  was  wont 
to  teach  pin  economy  by  teaching  her  children  that  canny  couplet : 

"See  a  pin  and  pick  it  up. 
All  the  day  you'll  have  good  luck." 

— Selected. 


JUST  FOR  FUN. 

HER  FINGERS  CAME  IN  TOO  LATE. 

Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  enjoyed  nothing  so 
much  as  a  clever  retort,  even  if  it  happened  to 
be  at  his  own  expense.    One  day,  at  an  enter- 
tainment, he  was  seated  near  the  refreshment 
table,  and  observed  a  little  girl  looking  with 
longing  eyes  at  the  good  things.    With  his  in- 
variable fondness  for  children,  he  said,  kindly: 
"Are  yon  hungry,  little  girl  ?" 
"Yes,  sir,"  was  the  reply. 
"Then  why  don't  you  take  a  sandwich?" 
"Because  I  haven't  any  fork," 
"Fingers  were  made  before  forks,"  said  the 
doctor,  smilingly. 
The  little  girl  looked  up  at  him  and  replied,  to  his  delight : 
"Not  my  fingers," 

Teacher — And  why  do  you  suppose  the  Indians  were  so  tall  and 
strong? 

Johnny  (whose  thoughts  are  sometimes  in  a  line  with  his  teacher's 
and  sometimes  "outside  the  four  walls") — They  ate  Quaker  Oatst 

A  young  minister,  unexpectedly  called  upon  to  address  a  Sunday 
School,  asked,  to  gain  time:  "Children,  what  shall  I  speak  about?"  A 
little  girl  on  the  front  .seat,  who  had  herself  committed  to  memory  sev- 
eral declamations,  held  up  her  hand,  and,  in  a  shrill  voice,  inquired: 
"What  do  you  know?" — Selected. 

"Tomorrow,"  announced  five-year-old  Sidney  proudly  to  his 
teacher,  "is  my  birthday."  "Why,"  returned  she,  "it  is  mine,  too."  The 
boy's  face  clouded  with  perplexitjr ;  and  after  a  brief  silence  he  ex- 
claimed, "How  did  you  get  so  much  bigger'n  me  ?" 

A  little  girl  mourning  for  her  favorite  cat,  Bathsheba,  asked  the 
poet  to  commemorate  its  memory  in  verse,  which  he  did  off-hand  in  this 
classical  bit: 

Bathsheba !  to  whom  none  ever  said  scat — 

No  worthier  cat 

Ever  sat  on  a  mat, 

Or  caught  a  rat. 

Requiescat ! 


^ 


OFFICERS^  DEPARTMENT 

00 


A  HAPPY  NEW  YEAR. 

Better  to  strive  and  climb, 

And  never  reach  the  goal. 
Than  to  drift  along  with  time, 

An  aimless,  worthless  soul. 
Aye,  better  climb  and  fall. 

Or  sow,  though  the  yield  be  small, 
Than  to  throw  away  day  after  day. 

And  never  strive  at  all. 

— Margaret  Sangster. 

NEW  PLAN  FOR  1913. 

The  new  plan  for  the  work  in  the  Primary  associations  is  the  result 
of  careful  consideration  on  the  part  of  the  General  Board  and  comes  as 
an  outgrowth  of  th^  successful  results  of  the  work  which  was  tested 
during  the  summer  months. 

Stake  Boards  are  urged  to  study  the  plan  and  be  prepared  to  help 
the  local  workers  to  put  it  into  immediate  action.  If  the  necessary 
books  and  materials  are  not  in  the  possession  of  the  ward  associations 
each  Stake  Board  should  adopt  some  plan  to  see  that  they  are  provided. 
It  will  be  appreciated  if  the  Stake  Boards  will  observe  how  these  plans 
work  out  and  let  the  General  Board  know  the  results. 

We  cannot  think  of  a  more  important  qualification  for  the  New 
Year  than  faith — faith  in  God  and  in  man.  This  creed  is  full  of  faith. 
He  who  does  not  fear  the  journey  is  the  man  to  make  the  journey  suc- 
cessfully. He  who  is  sure  that  a  powerful  friend  is  protecting  him 
may  go  on  his  way  rejoicing.  This  is  what  faith  does  for  us.  It 
makes  us  eager  for  the  onward  journey  of  life  and  glad  in  the  thought 
that  we  shall  not  travel  unprotectefl.  "I  believe  in  God,  the  living 
God."  This  is  exhilarating  and  inspiring.  What  cannot  a  man  do 
who  believes  in  the  God  that  made  him  and  is  waiting  to  utilize  him 
in  his  vast  plans?  Who  is  afraid  when  God  stands  round  about?  And 
the  living  God  is  he  who  is  with  us  now.  Judea  is  a  long  way  off,  and 
the  Old  Testament  worthies  lived  a  long  time  ago.  There  has  been 
space  for  tremendous  happenings  and  disasters  since  then.  But  God 
lives.  He  is  moving  on.  He  leads  the  march  of  progress  in  this  enter- 
prising world.  He  beckons  the  young,  the  bright,  the  brave.  He  is  not 
lost  in  the  smoke  of  the  past,  but  shines  out  of  the  sunlit  present  and 
offers  a  world  of  happiness  and  usefulness. — Selected, 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  47 


FUN  IS  A  NECESSITY. 

Most  people  have  the  impression  that  fun  and  humor  are  life  inci- 
dentals, not  necessities ;  that  they  are  luxuries  and  have  no  gfreat  bearing 
upon  one's  career. 

Many  think  fun  is  frivolous,  indicating  a  lack  of  serious  purpose  in 
life.  There  are  parents  who  rebuke  their  children  because  they  want  to 
have  fun  and  go  in  for  a  good  time.  These  parents  have  yet  to  learn 
the  gfreat  part  which  fun  and  humor  play  in  the  physical  economy  and 
their  influence  on  the  life. — Success  Magazine. 


He  who  hath  appointed  thee  thy  task,  will  proportion  it  to  thy 
strength,  and  thy  strength  to  the  burden  which  he  lays  upon 
thee.  He  who  maketh  the  seed  grow,  thou  knowest  not  how, 
and  seest  not,  will,  thou  knowest  not  how,  ripen  the  seed 
which  he  hath  sown  in  thy  heart,  and  leaven  thee  by  the 
secret  workings  of  his  good  Spirit.  Thou  mayest  not  see  the  change 
thyself,  but  he  will  gradually  change  thee,  make  thee  another  man. 
Only  yield  thyself  to  his  molding  hand,,  as  clay  to  the  potter,  having 
no  wishes  of  thy  own,  but  seeking  in  sincerity,  however  faint,  to  have 
his  will  fulfilled  in  thee,  and  he  will  teach  thee  what  to  pray  for,  and 
will  give  thee  what  he  teacheth  thee.  He  will  retrace  his  own  image 
on  thee  line  by  line,  effacing  by  his  grace  and  gracious  discipline  the 
marks  and  spots  of  sin  which  have  defaced  it. — Edward  B.  Pusey, 


OPPORTUNITY. 

Learn  to  make  the  most  of  life. 

Lose  no  happy  day, 
Time  will  never  bring  thee  back 

Chances  swept  away. 
Leave  no  tender  word  unsaid. 

Love  while  love  shall  last. 
The  mill  will  never  grind 

With  the  water  that  has  passed. 

— ^Sarah  Doudney. 


"TO  TOIL,  TO  SUFFER,  TO  DIE." 

The  world  has  no  room  for  cowards.  We  must  all  be  ready  some- 
how to  toil,  to  suffer,to  die.  And  yours  is  not  the  less  noble  because 
no  drum  beats  before  you  when  you  go  out  into  your  daily  battlefields, 
and  no  crowds  shout  about  your  coming  when  you  return  from  your 
daily  victory  or  defeat. — Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 


48  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


ONE  MORE  STEP  MAY  WIN  THE  RACE. 

As  you  journey  on  life's  highway, 

Should  your  heart  grow  faint  within, 
Enemies  seek  to  assail  you — 

Truth  and  worth  seem  crushed  by  sin — 
Draw  a  breath  of  resolution. 

With  humble  prayer  increase  your  pace, 
Trust  in  God,  nor  ever  falter — 

One  more  step  may  win  the  race. 

If  with  loving  hand  and  tender 

You  are  seeking  to  instill 
In  the  hearts  of  little  children 

Obedience  to  our  Father's  will ; 
If  you  feel  a  bit  discouraged, 

Bring  a  smile  to  light  your  face — 
Though  your  efforts  seem  most  fruitless — 

One  more  step  may  win  the  race. 

One  more  step  may  bring  you  nearer, 

One  more  breath  may  that  impart 
Which  may  sink  and  live  forever 

In  that  tender,  childish  heart; 
Don't  give  up,  but  keep  on  trying. 

Nor  to  gloomy  fears  give  place; 
Think,  you  surely  are  advancing. 

And  one  more  step  will  win  the  race. 

Though  you're  called  upon  to  suffer. 

Though  your  heart  with  grief  is  rent. 
Trust  the  hand  that  still  is  leading ; 

Try^  to  see  with  love  'tis  sent. 
If  we  in  His  steps  can  follow. 

In  every  trial  His  hand  can  trace. 
We  can  trust  Him,  still  believing 

One  more  step  may  win  the  race. 

— Annie  Malin. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  49 


DONT  SNUB  CHILDREN. 

Children  love  to  be  treated  with  courtesy  and  respect.  They 
resent  having  their  opinions  and  sentiments  snubbed,  and  parents  might 
learn  a  good  deal  from  them  and  about  them  if  they  would  encourage 
them  to  talk  more  freely  of  all  they  think  and  feel.  We  are  hardened 
by  the  gathering  years,  and  we  have  lost  our  keenest  sense  of  what 
is  the  very  truest  and  the  very  best.  The  contact  of  a  child's  mind  with 
its  pure  vision  is  like  a  message  straight  from  God. — Selected. 

GREAT  IN  SERVICE. 

Taken  by  itself,  your  life  is  certainly  a  very  insignificant  affair; 
but  placed  as  you  happen  to  be  placed,  in  the  kind  of  a  universe  which 
God  has  happened  to  make,  your  life  becomes  of  infinite  importance. 
For  God  has  chosen  to  work  out  his  designs,  not  in  spite  of  you,  but 
through  you ;  and  where  you  fail  He  halts.  Almighty  God  needs  you. 
You  are  not  your  own,  either  to  be  insignificant  or  great,  but  you  are 
in  the  service  of  that  which  is  greater  than  yourself,  and  that  service 
touches  your  life  with  its  own  greatness.  It  is  as  though  you  were  a 
li|2fhthouse  keeper  set  to  do  your  duty  on  your  bare  rock.  Can  any  life 
be  more  unpraised  or  insignificant  ?  Why  sit  through  the  weary  nights 
to  keep  your  flame  alive?  Why  not  sleep  on,  all  unobserved,  and  let 
your  little  light  go  out  ?  Because  it  is  not  your  light — that  is  the  point. 
You  are  not  its  owner,  you  are  its  keeper.  That  is  your  name.  You 
are  a  light-keeper.  You  are  set  there  with  this  as  your  trust.  The  great 
(•es*gn  of  the  Power  you  serve  takes  you  thus  out  of  your  insignifi- 
cance.— Francis  G.  Peabody. 

THE  ART  OF  KEEPING  YOUNG. 

This  is  an  age  of  young  people.  The  great  lesson  for  teachers  to 
learn  is  the  art  of  keeping  young.  The  ideal  life  is  one  full  of  activity 
and  interest  to  its  very  close.  The  teacher  who  keeps  her  health  and 
her  enthusiasm  year  after  year  is  a  true  artist.  To  keep  young  and 
enthusiastic  one  must  be  well.  It  is  said  that  there  are  sixteen  hun- 
dred ways  of  being  sick  but  only  six  ways  of  becoming  sick,  and  all 
forms  of  sickness  may  be  traced  to  one  or  more  of  these  six  causes; 
vie,  wrong  thinking,  wrong  exercise,  wrong  rest,  wrong  eating  and 
drinking,  wrong  cleansing,  wrong  clothing.  May  all  of  Children *« 
.  Friend  readers  try  this  beautiful  month  of  January  to  avoid  violating 
the  first  of  these  six  health  conditions,  and  may  they  all  think  only 
cheerful,  kindly,  harmonious  thoughts,  shutting  ^ut  past  mistakes,  hav- 
ing: Tio  fear  for  the  future,  but  trying  to  make  each  minute  beautiful, 
so  that  the  whole  dav  shall  be  beautiful  because  it  is  made  up  of  brave, 
bright,  cheerfully  lived  minute*;. 


LESSON  DEPARTMENT 


Subfect  for  tbc  /ftontb:   Courace. 

•      LESSON  FIVE. 

The  Lesson  Hour. 

Use  suggestions  for  use  of  class  periods  as  given  in  the  last  issue 
of  The  Children's  Fiuend. 

The  songs,  prayers  or  other  material  not  mentioned  for  this  month's 
work  should  be  selected  and  prepared  and  should  emphasize  the  thought 
of  courage. 

FIRST  GRADE. 

Review.  Use  memory  gem  from  last  month  and  some  of  the  inci- 
dents which  show  how  a  loving  child  may  be  helpful  and  kind.  The 
new  memory  gem  relates  itself  to  the  old  by  the  feeling  of  love  and 
indicates  more  activity  on  the  part  of  the  child. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Character  by  Smiles,  chapter  5. 

Memory  Gem. 

"Children,  do  you  love  each  other? 

Are  you  always  kind  and  true? 
Do  you  always  do  to  others 

As  you'd  have  them  do  to  you?" 

Story.  Queen  Esther.  The  Old  Testament.  Pictures  of  Queen 
Esther.  ' '  ^r 

Teachers*  Talk.  The  teacher  should  read  the  chapter  on  courage 
by  Smiles,  and  study  it  with  the  officers  in  the  preparation  meeting,  so 
that  she  may  be  full  of  ideas  about  courage.  In  the  talk  with  the  chil- 
dren it  may  not  be  possible  to  use  any  oit  Smiles'  illustrations,  but  the 
study  of  the  subject  will  help  to  make  clear  what  is  meant  by  courage. 
Consider  the  courage  necessary  to  "love  your  neighbor  as  yourself,'* 
and  apply  it  to  the  little  things  children  may  do.  The  story  of  Queen 
Esther  must  be  made  simple  and  short  to  suit  the  age  of  the  children, 
and  the  point  made  clear  that  she  was  brave  in  trying  to  do  for  her 
people  what  she  would  have  liked  done  for  herself. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  51 

Aim. 

Courage  exercised  in  helping  others  brings  happiness. 

Illustration. 

How  Fred  Helped.    The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  5,  page  203. 

SECOND  GRADE. 

Review,  Use  the  new  memory  gem  and  the  thoughts  suggested  in 
the  poem  given  for  the  last  lesson  and  help  the  children  to  feel  the  desire 
to  do  little  duties  around  the  home.  Explain  the  necessity  for  courage 
to  do  things  that  are  hard  and  disagreeable. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  5. 

Memory  Gem, 

"Work  while  you  work,  play  while  you  play ; 
This  is  the  way  to  be  cheerful  and  gay. 
All  that  you  do,  do  with  your  might ; 
Things  done  by  halves  are  never  done  right." 

Poem.     "There's  Nobody  Else." 

Two  littk  hands,  so  careful  and  brisk 

Putting  the  dishes  away, 
While  mother  is  resting  awhile  in  her  chair, 

For  she  has  been  busy  all  day. 
And  the  dear  little  fingers  are  working  for  love. 

Although  they  are  tender  and  wee ; 
"I'll  do  it  so  nicely,"  she  says  to  herself — 

"There's  nobody  else,  you  see." 


Two  little  feet  just  scampered  upstairs, 

For  father  will  quickly  be  here, 
And  his  shoes  must  be  ready  and  warm  by  the  fire 

That  is  burning  so  bright  and  so  clear. 
Then  she  must  climb  on  a  chair  to  keep  watch : 

"He  cannot  get  in  without  me ; 
When  mother  is  tired  I  open  the  door — 

There's  nobody  else,  you  see." 

— Mary  Hodges, 

Story,    Daniel  In  the  Lion's  Den.     Daniel,  chapter  6. 

Teachers'  Talk,  Study  carefully  the  principle  of  courage  and  its 
application  to  the  things  ,which  little  children  are  required  to  do.  The 
poem  indicates  some  of  the  little  tasks  of  home  life.    The  Bible  story 


52  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

relates  the  courage  to  do  something  which  God  requires  of  all  His 
children.  Certain  conditions  make  it  difficult  for  children  to  pray,  let 
the  children  tell  you  what  they  are,  emphasize  how  necessary  it  is  to  be 
brave  even  if  one  is  cold  or  sleepy,  etc. 

Aim. 

Courage  exercised  in  doing  one's  duty  brings  happiness. 

Illustration. 

The  Little  Watchers,  The  Childreit's  Friend,  vol.  9,  page  206. 

THIRD  GRADE. 

Reviezv,  Last  month's  lessons  are  closely  related  to  the  work  to  be 
given  in  this  lesson,  and  if  carefully  reviewed,  will  make  a  good  found- 
ation for  the  new  truths.  Revive  the  memory  gems  and  have  them 
recited  in  concert  and  by  class  members.  Recall  incidents  that  were 
related. 

Impress  upon  the  children  again,  that  in  Jesus  we  have  the  best 
example  to  follow. 

Materials  forthe  Lesson. 

Character  by  Smiles,  chapter  5. 


Memory  Gem. 


"Yield  not  to  temptation, 
For  yielding  is  sin: 

Each  victory  will  aid  you 
Some  other  to  win." 


— Selected. 


Poem.    "Our  Heroes." 

Here's  a  hand  to  the  boy  who  has  courage 

To  do  what  he  knows  to  be  right ; 
When  he  falls  in  the  way  of  temptation 

He  has  a  hard  battle  to  fight. 
Who  strives  against  self  and  his  comrades. 

Will  find  a  most  powerful  foe ; 
All  honor  to  him  if  he  conquers, 

A  cheer  for  the  boy  who  says  "No!" 

There's  many  a  battle  fought  daily 

The  world  knows  nothing  about; 
There's  many  a  brave  little  soldier 

Whose  strength  puts  a  legion  to  rout. 
And  he  who  fights  sin  single-handed 

Is  more  of  a  hero,  I  say, 
Than  he  who  leads  soldiers  to  battle. 

And  conquers  by  arms  in  the  fray. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  53 

Be  steadfast,  my  boy,  when  you're  tempted, 

To  do  what  you  know  to  be  right. 
Stand  firm  by  the  colors  of  manhood, 

And  you  will  overcome  in  the  fight. 
"The  Right,"  be  your  battle-cry  ever 

In  waging  the  warfare  of  life; 
And  God,  who  knows  who  are  the  heroes. 

Will  give  you  the  strength  for  tlie  strife. 

— Phoebe  Gary. 

Story.    Temptation  of  Jesus.     Matthew  4:1-11 ;  Luke  4:1-13. 

Teachers^  Talk.  Study  carefully  the  chapter  on  courage  referred 
to ;  it  will  do  much  to  inspire  you  in  the  month's  work.  Use  that  part 
which  you  can  make  simple  enough  for  your  class.  By  illustrations 
help  the  children  to  know  the  diflference  between  physical  and  moral 
courage.  Let  them  give  illustrations.  Help  the  class  to  see  which  we 
really  need  most.  Have  them  tell  of  times  when  they  need  courage  to 
do  the  things  before  them.  Let  them  tell,  too,  of  times  when  they 
should  have  courage  to  say  "No." 

-  Explain  as  simply  as  you  can  the  meaning  of  the  word  temptation. 
Relate  some  personal  experiences  when  you  were  tempted  to  do  wrong : 
let  the  children  tell  some  of  the  things  that  they  arc  tempted  to  do  or 
not  to  do.     Give  the  memory  gem  and  help  them  to  understand  it. 

Tell  as  impressively  as  you  can  the  story  of  the  temptation  of  Jesus. 

At  the  close  of  the  lesson  you  might  ask  the  children  to  try  during 
the  week  to  overcome  some  temptation,  and  next  week  report  to  you. 

. 

Aim. 

Courage  to  do  right  wins  the  favor  of  God  and  man. 

Illustration. 

"The  Spelling  Match."  The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  11,  page 
400. 

FOURTH  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Questions.  What  did  the  Savior  mean  when  He  said  "Come  fol- 
low Me?" 

What  were  some  of  the  things  the  Savior  did  ? 

What  are  every  day  tasks  ?     Let  the  class  mention  a  number. 

Which  of  them  do  you  like  to  do? 

Which  do  you  find  hard  and  disagreeable  ? 

Teachers'  Talk.  Explain  the  difference  between  physical  and 
moral  courage.    'Character  by  Smiles,  pages  131  and  142. 

Memory  Gem.  "Real  courage  must  be  proved  by  deeds,  not 
words." 


54  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

To  Be  Read  or  Related, 

BRAVERY. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  courage,  the  courage  when  you  are  not 
afraid  and  the  courage  when  you  are  afraid.  When  a  boy  says,  '*Oh, 
r  am  not  afraid !"  and  does  what  the  others  shrink  from  doing,  he  is  not 
particularly  brave.  Real  bravery  is  when  you  are  afraid  to  do  a  thing, 
shrink  from  doing  it,  and  yet  go  on  because  you  ought  to.  That  is 
Christ-like  bravery.  What  happened  in  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane 
showed  that  Christ  shrank  from  the  cross,  yet  he  went  right  on  to  it. 
He  was  brave. 

A  boy  who  is  so  frightened  that  he  trembles,  but  still  puts  out  his 
hand  and  holds  it  steadily  for  the  surgeon  to  lance  it,  is  brave.  The 
girl  who  is  so  afraid  that  she  is  as  white  as  a  sheet,  but  still  goes  upstairs 
in  the  dark  on  an  errand  for  her  mother,  is  brave.  Those  of  you  who 
are  almost  sick  at  the  thought  of  doing  something  that  will  cause  others 
to  laugh  at  you,  and  yet  go  on  with  your  duty,  are  brave.  No  one  is 
really  brave  unless  he  is  afraid,  and  refuses  to  give  up  to  his  fear. — 
Selected. 

Quotations.  Psalms  31:24;  Deuteronomy  31:6;  I  Corinthians 
16:13. 

Aim. 

The  overcoming  of  personal  weakness  develops  personal  strength. 

Illustration. 

GEORGE  WASHINGTON. 

George  Washington,  when  quite  young,  was  about  to  go  to  sea  as 
a  midshipmai);  everything  was  arranged,  the  vessel  lay  opposite  his 
father's  house,  the  little  boat  had  come  on  shore  to  take  him  off,  and 
his  whole  heart  was  bent  on  going.  After  his  trunk  had  been  carried 
down  to  the  boat,  he  went  to  bid  his  mother  farewell,  and  saw  the  tears 
bursting  from  her  eyes.  However,  he  said  nothing  to  her,  but  he  saw 
that  she  would  be  distressed  if  he  went,  and  perhaps  never  be  happy 
again.  He  just  turned  round  to  the  servant,  and  said,  ''Go  and  tell  them 
to  fetch  my  trunk  back.  I  will  not  go  away  and  break  my  mother's 
heart."  His  mother  was  struck  with  the  courage  he  showed  in  making 
this  decision  and  said  to  him,  *'George,  God  has  promised  to  bless  the 
children  who  honor  their  parents,  and  I  believe  He  will  bless  you." 

FIFTH  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Questions.  How  do  we  know  that  George  Washington  possessed 
courage?  Review  one  or  more  incidents.  Use  same  question  about 
Abraham  Lincoln,  the  Prophet  Joseph  Smith,  and  the  Savior,  using 
incidents  to  illustrate  the  point  in  each  case. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  55 

Teachers'  Talk.  Discuss  the  courage  displayed  by  men  who  have 
suffered  and  died  for  the  truth.  Chapter  on  courage.  Character  by 
Smiles.  Review  some  of  the  incidents  in  Church  history  which  illus- 
trate the  courage  of  some  of  its  members. 

Quotations.  Isaiah  51:7;  Ezekiel  2:6;  Matthew  10:28;  Luke  12: 
4-5 ;  Philippians  1 :28-28. 

Memory  Gem.  "Greater  love  hath  no  man  than  this,  that  a  man 
lay  down  his  life  for  his  friends." 

To  Be  Read  or  Related. 

WHEN  TEMPTED  TO  PLAY  THE  COWARD. 

We  all  have  days  of  discouragement  and  moments  when  we  would 
be  glad  to  run  away  from  our  troubles  and  responsibilities.  In  these 
times  of  depression  and  discouragement,  when  we  feel  that  we  amount 
to  but  little  and  doubt  whether,  after  all,  life  is  worth  while,  there  is 
always  danger  of  playing  the  coward ;  of  doing  something  that  we  shall 
be  ashamed  of  later.  It  is  better  never  to  take  an  important  step  or 
make  a  radical  change  when  discouraged. 

When  everything  seems  dark  ahead  and  you  can  not  see  another 
step,  then  say  to  yourself :  "I  guess  it  is  up  to  me  now  to  play  the  part 
of  a  man,"  grit  your  teeth  and  push  on,  knowing  that  the  gloomy  condi- 
tion will  pass ;  that  no  matter  how  black  or  threatening  the  clouds,  there 
is  a  sun  behind  them  which  will  ultimately  burst  through.  You  will  be 
surprised  to  find  what  power  and  courage  are.  developed  by  this  holding 
on  as  best  you  can. 

After  becoming  better  acquainted  with  the  mighty  reserve  which  is 
in  you,  you  will  learn  that  you  can  depend  upon  it ;  that  it  will  come  to 
your  rescue  in  your  hour  of  need. 

I  have  known  young  men  to  play  the  coward  to  such  an  extent  as 
to  cancel  engagements  to  speak  on  important  occasions,  just  because 
they  were  filled  with  terror  at  the  very  thought  of  appearing  before  an 
audience.  Their  timidity,  their  fear  of  not  acquitting  themselves  prop- 
erly, made  such  cowards  of  them  that  they  invented  all  sorts  of  excuses 
for  shirking  the  responsibility. 

Many  people  are  frightened  out  of  taking  responsibilities  which 
they  know  perfectly  well  they  would  be  capable  of  fulfilling,  and  which 
would  be  of  untold  benefit  to  them  if  carried'  out.  They  haven't  the 
courage  to  measure  up  to  their  opportunities. 

Nowf  when  tempted  to  play  the  coward,  get  by  yourself  and  give 
yourself  a  good  talking-to.  Think  how  cowardly  it  would  he  to  run 
away  from  your  responsibility  or  opportunity.  Just  say  to  yourself 
that  you  are  made  of  better  stuflF ;  that  you  are  going  to  do  the  thing 
that  you  agreed  to  do,  no  matter  how  hard  or  disagreeable  it  may  be. 
— Success. 


56  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

To  Be  Recited.    "The  Bravest  Smile." 
It  is  easy  enough  to  be  pleasant 

When  life  flows  by  like  a  song, 
But  the  one  worth  while  is  the  one  who  will  smile 

When  everything  goes  dead  wrong. 
For  the  test  of  the  heart  is  trouble, 

And  it  always  comes  with  years, 
And  the  smile  that  is  worth  the  praise  of  earth 

Is  the  smile  that  shines  through  tears. 

— Selected. 

Aim. 

The  doing  of  disagreeable  duties  brings  satisfaction  and  happiness. 

IllustratioiL 

A  Boy's  Courage.  Incident  from  life  of  President  Joseph  F.  Smith. 
The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  5,  page  24. 

LESSON  SIX. 

The  Busy   Hour. 

Washing  Dishes. 

Chopping  Kindling. 

Common  every-day  activities  have  been  chosen  for  this  period  that 
the  children  may  be  helped  to  understand  their  importance,  to  develop 
a  desire  to  do  things  and  give  an  opportunity  to  put  the  impulse  into 
action.  As  the  results  of  this  hour  should  be  put  to  good  use,  the  fol- 
lowing is  suggested: 

That  the  dish  cloths  and  towels  be  donated  to  the  Bishopric  for  the 
keeping  in  good,  clean  condition  of  any  dishes  that  belong  to  and  are 
used  by  the  people  of  the  ward. 

That  the  kindling  wood  be  donated  to  the  Bishopric  for  the  stoves 
or  furnaces  in  the  meeting  houses.  Plans  for  the  gathering  of  the 
materials  will  be  left  to  the  direction  of  the  officers. 

Usual  opening  exercises  and  division  into  classes.  At  close  of 
periods  each  class  must  be  dismissed  by  benediction. 

FIRST  AND  SECOND  GRADES. 

Suggestive  Talk  About  Dishwashing.  The  children  may  help  in 
this  talk  if  the  teacher  puts  most  of  it  in  the  form  of  questions.  The 
smaller  children  will  enjoy  dramatizing  the  different  activities  in  dish- 
washing. 

There  are  different  kinds  of  dishes  and  like  different  kinds  of  peo- 
ple they  must  be  treated  in  different  ways."  Imagine  that  it  is  just  after 
dinner :  on  the  dininjET  table  and  in  the  kitchen  are  the  dishes,  pans,  etc., 
which  hive  been  used. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  57 

! 
I 

First,  we  will  scrape  all  the  remnants  of  food  from  the  dishes  and 
empty  and  rinse  glasses  and  cups.  What  shall  we  do  with  the  scraps 
of  food?  They  must  not  be  wasted.  What  dishes  shall  we  put  in 
piles?  Why  should  we  be  careful  not  to  put  one  glass  inside  of  an- 
other ?  After  all  the  dishes  are  sorted  and  stacked,  the  pans  and  kettles 
all  put  to  soak,  we  are  ready  for  the  washing  of  them. 

We  need  two  dishpans,  one  for  washing  and  one  for  rinsing,  plenty 
of  hot  water,  soapi  dish  cloths  and  plenty  of  towels.  Begin  with  the 
glasses  and  china,  using  warm  water,  hot  water  will  crack  fine  dishes. 
Put  in  more  hot  water  for  the  rest  of  the  dishes ;  change  the  water  often 
if  you  have  very  many,  you  cannot  get  dishes  clean  with,  dirty  water. 
Do  not  put  many  dishes  in  the  pan  at  one  time.  Dry  everything  thor- 
oughly before  putting  away.  If  you  have  vases  or  tall  pitchers  use  fine 
sand  or  small  shot  and  you  can  clean  them  easily.  If  you  have  any  steel 
knives  or  forks,  be  sure  to  scour  them  with  some  good  cleanser.  Now 
the  pots  and  pans.  Then  we  will  clean  off  the  tables,  sink,  and  stove, 
wash  out  and  hang  up  all  dish  cloths  and  towels,  sweep  up  the  kitchen, 
put  away  the  broom,  and  we  are  all  clean  and  tidy  and  ready  to  say : 

If  a  task  is  once  begun, 
Never  leave  it  till  it's  done ; 
Be  the  labor  great  or  small ; 
Do  it  well,  or  not  at  all. 


-Phoebe  Cary. 


Recitation.     "Washing  the  Dishes. 


» 


With  "teenie  weenies"  mother  starts. 

And  let's  us  wipe  a  spoon; 
And  then  so  fast  we  grow  that  we 

Can  wash  the  dishes  soon. 
One  washes  and  another  dries, 

When  there  are  only  two, 
If  three  one  sets  the  dishes  up, 

There's  work  for  each  to  do. 
The  glasses  and  frail  chinaware 

•We  wash  first,  and  must  not 
Touch  carelessly,  or  put  them 

Into  water  very  hot. 
For  silver,  tin  and  earthen  things. 

Hot  water  we  should  use ; 
Rub  hard,  but  handle  them  with  care. 

To  drop  might  break  or  bruise. 
The  knives  and  forks  and  pots  and  pans 

Must  all  be  neatly  done. 
We've  finished.     Mother  smiles  and  says 

"Now  play,  and  have  your  fun." 

— L,  L,  G,  R. 


58  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Enough  cheese  cloth  or  other  suitable  materials  so  that  each  child 
may  make  a  dish-cloth.  The  size  of  the  cloth  should  be  twelve  inches 
square,  with  hems  all  turned,  basted  and  marked  with  dots  to  show 
where  the  needle  is  to  go  through  the  cloth,  the  dots  should  be  about 
this  far  apart  ....  Have  darning 

needles  all  threaded  with  yam  or  colored  thread,  knotted  and  through 
the  first  stitch  ready  for  the  lesson.  The  needle  should  be  pushed 
through  each  dot,  (do  not  try  to  take  stitches),  by  sewing  backwards 
a  straight  line  can  be  made  on  both  sides  of  the  hem. 

The  second  g^ade  children  may  enjoy  doing  their  cloths  in  a  dif- 
ferent way  and  the  hem  have  this  result: 


THIRD  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Suitable  cloth  for  dish  towels.  Hems  all  turned  and  basted,  ready 
for  the  hemming.  Needles  ready  threaded  with  white  or  colored 
thread.  Children  to  bring  their  own  thimbles.  If  possible,  each  towel 
should  be  finished  during  the  period. 

FOURTH  AND  FIFTH  GRADES. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Wood  to  be  chopped.  Suitable  tools.  The  wood  should  be  cut  an 
even  size  and  nicely  piled  in  stacks.  This  will  necessitate  k  division  of 
workers — measurers,  sawyers,  choppers  and  stacftn^s.  Suitable  spaces 
should  be  arranged  so  that  order  is  maintained.  Part  of  the  hour  is  to 
be  used  in  putting  away  all  disorder  created  by  the  class,  and  where 
necessary,  returning  borrowed  tools. 


LESSON  SEVEN. 

The  Story   Hour. 


This  period  is  to  be  devoted  to  the  reading  or  telling  of  good 
stories.  The  aim  being  to  develop  a  taste  for  good  literature,  and  en- 
courage home  reading.  The  stories  for  this  session  will  be  used  to 
develop  subjects  given  in  lesson  five.  Where  stories  suggested  are  too 
long  for  this  lesson  the  teacher  may  do  one  of  these  things : 

Read  parts  that  best  fit  the  occasion  and  make  arrangements  for 
the  lending  of  the  book  so  that  the  story  may  be  completed  at  home,  or : 

Read  part  and  relate  part,  abbreviating  the  story  so  that  it  may  be 
completed  in  the  time  allowed,  or : 

Read  as  much  of  the  story  as  time  permits,  then  make  arrange- 
ments to  meet  in  some  home  and  finish  the  story  there. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  59 

FIRST  GRADE. 

The  songs,  games,  rest  exercises,  etc.,  should  be  given  as  usual  in 
this  grade  as  the  children  are  too  young  to  keep  still  for  a  whole  period. 

Stories.  Some  illustrated  story,  such  as  one  of  the  little  books  in 
the  Primary  book  lists,  or 

The  Lost  Lamb,  Boston  Collection  of  Kindergarten  Stories,  page 
50,  or: 

Joan's  Burglar,  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's  Friend. 

SECOND  GRADE. 

•  Time  should  be  taken  in  this  grade  for  some  singing  and  rest  exer- 
cises so  that  the  children  will  not  get  too  tired. 

Stories.  The  Little  Hero  of  Haarlem.  How  to  Tell  Stories, 
page  239,  or: 

Little  George  Washington.  The  Story  Hour,  page  115,  or:  At  His 
Post,  last  December  number  of  The  Children's  Friend. 

THIRD  GRADE.  

Stories.    Dora,  The  Little  Girl  of  the  Lighthouse,  Boston  Collec- 
tion of  Kindergarten  Stories,  page  7,  or : 
Among  the  Giants,  chapter  three,  or : 
Robinson  Crusoe,  or : 
A  Woman's  Courage,  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's  Friend. 

FOURTH  GRADE. 

Stories.  Little  Arthur's  Prayer,  Tom  Brown's  School  Days,  pages 
211  to  216;  or: 

Heidi,  or : 

Moni  the  Goat  Boy,  or: 

The  Battle  That  Made  a  Man  of  Trump,  in  this  issue  of  The 
Children's  Friend. 

FIFTH  GRADE. 

Stories.    Polly  Oliver's  Problem ;  or : 

The  Blind  Brother;  or 

Little  Louis  Catarat,  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's  Friend. 

LESSON  EIGHT. 

The  Social   Hour. 

The  value  of  the  social  hour  in  the  Primary  Association  will  be 
the  opportunities  it  offers  for  a  happy  hour  where  order  and  courtesy 
are  fully  observed.  The  preparation  for  this  session  needs  to  be  very 
careful  and  thorough,  lack  of  preparation  will  mean  disorder,  failure, 
and  disappointment  to  workers  and  children.  The  teachers  must  know 
exactly  each  step  in  its  order,  the  games  must  be  played  by  the  teachers 


60  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

in  the  preparation  meeting,  and  known  so  well  that  they  will  be  properly 
directed  and  the  children  helped  to  follow  the  rules  and  play  without 
disorder  or  unfairness. 

It  is  suggested  that  in  the  social  each  grade  be  kept  with  its  own 
teachers,  the  seating  space  being  divided  among  the  five  groups.  If 
one  grade  be  invited  to  help  another,  as  inviting  them  to  be  partners  in 
game  or  dance,  they  should  be  helped  to  do  it  politely  and  gracefully. 
The  room  must  be  prepared  for  this  session  so  that  there  is  plenty  of 
space  for  the  games.  If  the  weather  will  permit,  some  of  the  games 
should  be  played  outdoors.  As  many  as  possible  of  the  games  should 
be  played  in  groups.  Part  of  the  lesson  in  this  social  is  in  having  the 
children  feel  some  of  the  responsibility  in  making  it  a  success,  in  finding 
out  that  it  is  possible  to  be  polite  and  kind  and  still  have  a  good  time. 
Before  dimissal  the  house  should  be  put  in  the  best  of  order.  To  begin 
and  end  this  social  successfully  and  satisfactorily  means  the  develop- 
ment of  that  courage  which  is  the  ethical  subject  of  the  month's  work. 

PROGRAM  FOR  ALL  THE  GRADES. 

Preliminary  music 

Prayer. 

Singing.     Patriotic  song,  Primary  Song  Book. 

Recitation.    "Our  Heroes,*'  Lesson  Five,  Grade  Three. 

March, 

At  a  signal  from  piano  or  organ  all  should  stand,  form  in  line  and 
have  a  short,  brisk  march,  ending  it  by  all  taking  hands  and  forming  a 
circle  ready  for  the  first  game. 

Games.  "The  King  of  France."  Old  and  New  Singing  Games, 
page  8.  Change  the  words  of  the  first  line  to  "Brave  Washington  with 
many,  many  men."   . 

Recitation  of  memory  gem.  First  Grade.  The  next  four  games 
are  found  in  "Games  for  the  Playground."  If  this  book  is  not  avail- 
able others  may  be  selected.     Some  of  the  folk-dances  may  be  used. 

"Slap  Catch,"  page  178. 

Recitation  of  memory  gem.  Second  Grade.  "Catch  the  Cane," 
page  62. 

Recitation  of  memory  gem.    Third  Grade.    "Fox  Trail,"  page  93. 

Recitation  of  memory  gem.  Fourth  Grade.  "Puss  in  Circle," 
page  164. 

Recitation  of  memory  gem.    Fifth  Grade. 

Putting  the  house  in  order.  Special  care  must  be  taken  to  give 
each  group  a  definite  task,  so  that  order  is  maintained. 

Singing. 

Benediction. 


ALf,  THE  WAY  UP  THE  RIVER  WINNE-LACKEE  HAD  PADDLED. 


Vol.  12.  FEBRUARY,   1913.  No.  2. 


LirTLE  PRINCESS  WISLA, 

SOPHIA  SWETT. 

Chapter  II. — WnitE  the  Town  Ate  Its  Mid-day  Meal. 

Old  Winne-Lackee,  the  Squaw,  was  paddling  up  river  in  her  canoe. 
She  had  been  to  pay  a  visit  to  the  Indian  tents  at  Bar  Harbor.  Every 
summer  the  Indians  camped  there  and  sold  baskets  and  bead-work,  bows 
and  arrows  and  fur  moccasins  and  pouches  to  the  stunmer  visitors. 

Winne-Lackee  never  stayed  long  at  the  fashionable  place.  She 
was  rich  and  went  only  to  see  something  of  the  world. 

She  lived  on  the  Indian  island,  one  of  the  very  queerest  places  you 
ever  saw.  It  is  in  the  river,  away  up  above  Pekoe  and  Pollywhoppet. 
The  Pekoe  and  the  Pollywhoppet  boys  and  g^rls  think  it  is  the  very 
best  of  good  times  to  go  on  a  visit  to  the  Indian  village. 

Old  Winne-Lackee  was  not  bom  on  the  Indian  island.  It  was  said 
that  she  was  a  California  Indian  and  had  once  been  exhibited  in  a  show, 
and  that  old  Sockabesin,  a  chief  of  the  tribe  that  lived  on  the  island,  had 
'made  her  acquaintance  in  the  show,  where  he  was  bein^g  exhibited  as 
one  of  the  last  of  the  old-fashioned  Penobscot  Indians,  and  had  married 
her. 

That  does  not  seem  very  probable,  because  Indians  seldom  marry 
outside  of  their  own  tribe,  but  it  was  certainly  true  that  there  was  a 
mystery  about  old  Winne-Lackee;  and  her  name — which  means  "a 
woman  who  lives  beside  a  river  and  is  a  great  talker" — sounds  like  the 
language  of  the  California  Indians. 

It  was  said  that  old  Winne-Lackee's  first  husband  was  a  great  fur- 
trader  and  that  was  how  she  came  to  be  so  rich.  Her  house  on  the 
Indian  island  was  as  handsome  as  rich  white  people  would  have,  and 
inside  was  plenty  of  silk  and  satin  and  velvet  and  silver ;  but  there  was, 
besides,  a  great  deal  that  was  very  queer  and  Indian  and— oh  dear ! — 
not  so  very  clean. 

Winne-Lackee  had  servants  at  home,  two  Indian  maids  and  a  man, 
but  she  always  preferred  to  paddle  her  own  canoe.  She  had  taken  it 
with  her  on  board  the  steamer,  for  a  part  of  the  way  from  Bar  Harbor ; 
but  all  the  way  up  the  river  from  its  mouth  she  had  paddled. 

She  was  a  strong  woman;  the  muscles  stood  out  like  whip  cords 
on  her  lean  arms  which  today  she  had  bared  because  paddling  was  warm 
work  on  this  June  forenoon.      Her  face  was  brown  and  withered  so  that 


64  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEHD. 

it  made  one  think  of  a  baked  apple,  but  her  black  eyes  were  sharp  and 
bright.  They  looked  pleasant,  too.  The  Bar  Harbor  children  who 
clung  to  their  nurses  at  sight  of  the  other  squaws  in  the  tents  would 
always  go  to  Winne-Lackee. 

The  old  squaw  wore  a  black  dress  today,  although  she  liked  a 
bright  red  or  green  one  much  better,  and  over  the  black  dress  she  wore 
a  girdle  of  deer  skin  cut  out  in  a  long  fringe  at  the  lower  edge  and 
trimmed  at  the  upper  edge  with  sea  shells  of  brilliant  colors. 

She  wore  the  black  dress  because  Sockabesin*s  little  g^nd-daughter 
had  just  died  at  Bar  Harbor.  She  liked  to  dress,  in  some  ways,  as  the 
\\^hite  people  did,  and  she  had  loved  little  Swaying  Reed,  although  she 
did  not  like  her  mother,  Wintona,  and  would  not  allow  her  to  set  foot 
on  the  island.  , 

Old  Winne-Lackee's  heart  was  heavy  because  little  Swaying  Reed 
was  dead. 

She  had  paddled  almost  up  to  Pollywhoppet  now.  It  was  quiet  on 
the  river,  because  the  saw-mills  had  blown  the  noon-signals,  but  yet 
she  kept  to  the  farther  bank  because  she  did  not  feel  like  being  stared  at. 
Pollywhoppet  people  always  stared  at  her,  although  they  had  seen  her  a 
good  many  times. 

Very  close  to  her  canoe  came  some  floating  lumber,  probably  fallen 
overboard  from  a  lumberman's  raft.  Winne-Lackee's  eyes  were  old, 
but  they  were  still  sharp,  and  she  thought  she  saw  something  upon  the 
lumber  that  was  not  wood. 

A  few  quick  strokes  of  her  paddle  and  the  squaw  was  near  enough 
to  see  a  child's  arms  clinging  to  the  lumber,  a  small  dark  head,  water- 
soaked,  just  above  the  surface  of  the  river. 

Winne-Lackee  knew  how  to  manage  a  canoe,  you  may  be  sure.  It 
was  like  a  part  of  herself,  as  it  is  to  all  Indians.  But  yet  it  was  not 
easy  for  her  to  lift  the  child  into  the  light  Httle  craft  without  capsizing  it. 

She  was  forced  to  unlock  the  tight,  almost  rigid  clasp  of  the  little 
hands  around  an  oar,  an  oar  that  had,  somehow,  become  tightly  wedged 
between  two  timbers  and  so  held  fast. 

When  Peggy  had  come  to  the  surface  the  second  time,  from  the 
depths  of  the  river,  she  had  clutched  the  oar  that  had  fallen  from  her 
hands  when  she  went  down. 

She  had  come  up  near  the  floating  lumber,  and  swung  around  by 
an  eddy  in  the  river,  some  of  it  had  struck  her  upon  the  head,  a  hard, 
cruel  blow.  But  a  projecting  stick  had  also  caught  the  oar  and  held  it 
firmly,  and  although  she  was  almost  unconscious,  Peggy  had  still  clung 
to  the  oar,  as  drowning  people  will  cling. 

Winne-Lackee  knew  just  what  to  do  with  half-drowned  people.  It 
was  not  in  vain  that  she  had  lived  on  a  small  island  and  seen  reckless 
little  Indians  rescued  from  drowning,  many  and  many  a  time. 

Now  that  she  had  Peggy  in  her  canoe  she  placed  the  little  form  in 
such  a  position  that  the  water  would  escape  from  the  lungs.  Yet  it 
needed  different  treatment  from  what  she  could  give  it  in  the  canoe. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  65 

A  little  Pollywhoppet  girl,  probably,  she  thought.  She  glanced 
across  the  river  at  the  village  where  all  was  quiet  because  people  were  all 
eating  their  noon-day  meal,  and  wondered  where  she  had  come  from. 

There  was  nothing  to  show ;  for  the  little  row-boat  that  had  lost  its 
passenger  had  gone  drifting  down  the  river,  bound  for  the  open  sea 
and  was  now  quite  out  of  sight  from  the  harbor. 

The  little  girl  might  have  fallen  overboard  from  a  vessel,  or  drifted 
in  on  the  incoming  tide,  from  a  wreck  at  sea.  Perhaps  she  was  not  a 
little  Pollywhoppet  girl! 

Winne-Lackee  tenderly  lifted  the  long  black  braid  and  smoothed 
the  brow  over  the  closed  eyes. 

Winne-Lackee  dearly  loved  a  little  girl  and  she  had  never  had  one 
of  her  own. 

This  one  was  dark  and  very  sweet ;  she  might  almost  be  a  sister  to 
Swaying  Reed. 

She  would  have  drowned  in  a  few  minutes  if  it  had  not  been  for 
her,  thought  Winne-Lackee. 

When  the  little  girl  had  become  entirely  unconscious,  as  she  was 
now,  old  Winne-Lackee  knew  very  well  that  the  clinging  hands  would 
have  lost  their  grasp. 

She  belonged  to  her !  There  came  a  fierce  throb  of  Winne-Lackee's 
old  heart  at  the  thought.  Perhaps,  indeed,  her  friends  might  all  have 
gone  down  in  a  wreck  and  no  one  would  ever  appear  to  claim  her ! 

Why  had  she  so  firmly  thought  she  was  a  little  Pollywhoppet  girl  ? 

These  thoughts  flashed  through  Winne-Lackee's  mind  in  a  moment. 

The  next  moment  she  was  paddling,  paddling,  faster  than  she  had 
ever  done  before  in  her  life,  out  of  the  way  of  the  few  vessels  and  rafts 
upon  the  river,  past  Pollywhoppet  and  the  ship-yard  with  the  beautiful 
great  ship  ready  for  tomorrow's  launching,  up  towards  her  own  safe 
secluded  home  on  the  Indian  island. 

"I  wonder  where  the  children  are,"  said  Grandpapa  Piper  when  the 
luncheon  bell  rang. 

"Phi  has  gone  fishing;  he  came  in  and  got  a  luncheon  to  take  with 
him.     I  think  Peggy  is  in  the  ship-yard,"  said  Mama  Piper  easily. 

"Delia,  ring  the  luncheon  bell  at  the  door,"  Mama  Piper  added, 
turning  to  the  maid. 

Only  the  garden  and  the  orchard  were  between  the  Pipers'  house 
and  the  ship-yard. 

Delia  rang  loud  and  long,  but  the  small  ears  that  the  sound  was 
meant  to  reach  heard  nothing. 

Peggy,  lying  in  the  botom  of  the  canoe,  looked  as  if  she  were  dead, 
but  Winne-Lackee  could  feel  her  faint  heart-beat  and  a  flickering  pulse 
at  her  wrist. 

As  for  Winne-Lackee,  of  course  she  heard  the  bell. 
.   But  Winne-Lackee  paddled  away  up  the  quiet  sunny  river  faster 

than  ever!  /-r    l    /-     x-       ^  \ 

(10  be  Conttnuea.) 


I 


WASHINGTON. 

BY  MARY  BAILEY. 

He  was  a  grand  old  general, 

This  Washington  of  ours, 
As  in  the  ranks  of  noble  men 

His  form  among  them  towers ; 

He  was  no  coward  tho'  the  foe 
Might  lurk  in  ambush  nigh. 

There  was  but  one  thing  that  he  feared, 
The  blackness  of  a  lie. 

And  tho'  so  highly  favored — 
Few  kings  more  honored  were — 

He  always  loved  his  mother. 
And  from  boyhood  honored  her. 

First  in  War — he  stands  immortal ; 

First  in  Peace — still  leading  then ; 
And  not  least  he  stands  forever. 

First  in  hearts  of  countrymen. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  67 

GO-CARTS  AND  SPINNING  WHEELS. 

One  baby  is  bad  enough,  but  twins — oh,  dear !  I  wish  I  could  roll 
you  into  one  nice,  fat  baby — ^you'd  be  much  easier  to  look  after — but 
p'raps" — and  the  jolly  little  nurse  boy  changed  his  mind,  when  the 
round,  rosy,  little  twin  looked  up  and  gurgled,  "p'raps,  after  all,  you're 
better  two,  than  just  one  little,  plain,  thin  baby  brother,  such  as  Jack 
Jones  has." 

The  two  gocarts  were  trundled  vigorously  down  the  path,  and  the 
thin,  dark  twin  and  the  fair,  fat  one  were  soon  rolling  about  on  the 
green,  grassy  carpet  under  the  apple  trees. 

Billy  sat  and  watched  the  two  lively,  little  scramblers,  as  if  they 
were  a  very  big  problem. 

"Well,  Billy-boy,"  said  a  cheery  voice,  "wishing  again?"  and  grand- 
mother, who  was  one  of  Billy's  best  friends,  came  and  sat  down  beside 
hun.  "If  all  those  wishes  would  turn  into  horses.  Bob  and  Betty  would 
go  riding  round  the  world,  wouldn't  they?" 

"Nice  and  easy  for  me,"  said  Bob,  digging  the  toe  of  his  boot  into 
the  ground.  "I  think  that  gocarts  are  the  only  motor  cars  they'll  haye 
for  a  while,  and  I  g^ess  they  won't  travel  far  unless  I  wheel  them." 

Grandmother  picked  up  the  little,  dark  twin,  before  she  spoke,  and 
ran  her  fingers  through  his  brown  curls.  "Wheels  and  little  boys  make 
me  think  of  a  story  mother  used  to  tell  when  I  got  tired  rocking  a  little 
baby  brother  to  sleep." 

Billy  forgot  everything,  even  the  twins,  rolling  about  on  the  grass 
when  one  of  grandmother's  stories  began. 

"This  wheel  didn't  belong  to  a  motor  car,  or  a  carriage,  or  even  a 
gocart;  it  was  a  spinning  wheel,  on  which  all  the  thread  in  mother's 
sheets  and  tablecloths  was  spun,  from  the  flax  that  had  grown  out  in 
the  fields,  and  then  been  cleansed  and  smoothed  and  bleached,  white 
and  soft.  These  wheels  were  quite  large  and  heavy,  and  harder  to 
carry  than  a  gocart  is  to  push  or  even  two  gocarts.  But  my  mother 
never  went  visiting  at  any  of  the  neighbors,. two  or  three  miles  away, 
that  she  did  not  take  her  spinning  wheel  along.  She  could  talk  and 
spin,  and  she  had  no  time  to  sit  idle  in  those  days. 

"And  the  way  the  wheel  went  visiting  was  usually  on  the  shoulder 
of  a  little  boy,  not  much  bigger  than  you,  Billy.  He  would,  perhaps, 
walk  over  .the  two  or  three  miles  in  the  morning  with  the  spinning 
wheel  thrown  over  his  sturdy  shoulder,  to  be  all  ready  for  his  mother's 
busy  hand  when  she  arrived  after  dinner — but  there — I  must  run  off 
and  see  mother — by-by,  twins." 

And  when,  later  on,  Billy-boy  pushed  the  two  gocarts  back  to  the 
house,  he  looked  lovingly  down  at  the  twins.  "I  guess  that  other  boy 
must  have  been  made  of  pretty  good  stuff,"  he  said  to  himself,  "to  have 
walked  all  that  way  with  a  spinning  wheel  over  his  shoulder.  And, 
anyway — ^there's  lots  harder  things  to  do  than  wheel  a  gocart — even  two 
gocarts,"  and  he  gave  them  each  a  triumphant  push  as  they  reached  the 
front  door. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


THE  DEAREST  VALENTINE  OF  ALL. 

BY  HARRIET  L.  COMSTOCK. 

Helen  sat  on  the  top  step  of  the  porch,  her  little  elbows  on  hsr 
knees,  her  pretty  chubby  hands  supporting  her  round  face,  and  two  big 
tears  running  down  the  rosy  cheeks  toward  the  little  dimpled  chin. 

Helen  was  seven  years 
old,  and  she  had  a  trouble  too 
heavy  to  bear. 

Just  then  Aunt  Chloe 
came  along  humming  a  merty 
little  song  and  Helen  won- 
dered why  big  folks  were 
nearly  always  happy  while 
small  folks  had  such  sad 
times ! 

"Dear  me  \  Auntie  Dole- 
ful, what  is  the  matter?  Pret- 
ty Aunt  Chloe  sat  down  be- 
side her  small  niece  and 
looked  sympathetic, 

"It's  Margaret,"  faltered 
Helen, 

"Margaret!  Why,  what's 
the  matter  with  Margaret?" 

"She's  sprained  her  ankle, 
you  know,"  faltered  Helen. 

Aunt  Chloe  drew  in  her 
lips,  half  smihng,  and  dropped 
the  lids  over  her  twinkling 
eyes.  "I'm  sorry,  of  course," 
she  said,  "but  then,  you  know 
you  just  'detest  her,'  so  never  mind  the  ankle.  She  went  to  a  party. 
Helen,  where  you  were  not  invited!  Think  of  it!  She  does  not  love 
you  any  more  of  course,  and  you  are  'never,  never,  going  to  forgive 
her,'  you  know. !" 

"Oh,  stop!"  Poor  Helen  arose  tragically  and  stood  before  her 
pretty  Aunt.  "A  sprained  ankle  makes  people  seem  different.  I — I 
was  a  great  deal  meaner  than  Margaret.  I  said  dreadful  things  to 
Margaret  next  day,  and  she  only  walked  proudly  away— and  now — now 
— she  cannot  walk  at  all.  And  it  is  Valentine's  Day,"  poor  little  Helen 
went  on,  "and  we've  always  sent  each  other  valentines!  Oh,  Aunt 
Chloe !  oh !  oh !" 

Helen's  woe  was  too  much  for  her.  She  flung  herself  in  Aunt 
Chloe's  lap  and  cried. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  69 

Aunt  Chloe  smiled  above  the  curly  head  for  a  moment,  tnen  she 
said  cheerily,  "Helen,  I  see  the  way  out!" 

Helen  came  smiling  up  through  her  tears.  "Oh,  Auntie,  do  you 
really?  But  it*s  too  late  to  buy  a  valentine,  Auntie,"  she  added.  "You 
didn't  think  of  that,  did  you,  Auntie?" 

"Now»  see  here,  Helen,"  said  her  aunt,  "all  you  have  got  to  do  is 
to  make  believe  that  I  am  a  fairy  gotdmoth^r." 

Helen  and  pretty  Aunt  Chloe  were  both  all  dimples  now. 

"You  see  with  my  magic  wand  I  am  going  to  create  a  valentine !'' 
said  the  fairy  godmother;  "but  I  am  going  to  do  it  in  secret  with  a 
charmed  paint-brush.  When  it  is  finished  you  are  to  carry  it  to  Mar- 
garet without  speaking  a  word.  If  the  charm  works,  all  will  turn  out 
well,  and  Margaret  will  show  you  the  valentine ;  if  not — well !  you  will 
at  least  have  done  your  part." 

Little  Helen  was  hopping  about  in  glee,  and  Aunt  Chloe  went  off  to 
"create"  the  magic  valentine. 

Two  hours  later  a  trim  little  figure  in  bright  red,  and  with  an 
anxious  dimpled  face,  stood  at  Margaret  Hunt's  front  door,  and  a  very 
trembling  small  finger  pressed  the  electric  button. 

Mrs.  Hunt  opened  the  door.  She  seemed  surprised,  for  it  had 
been  a  whole  week  since  this  little  visitor  had  stood  there. 

"Helen!"  she  exclaimed  delightedly.  "What  has  brought  you 
here,  dear?    You  are  such  a  stranger!" 

"Yes'm;"  quivered  Helen.  "Please,  it  was  Margaret's  ankle — 
no.  I  mean  I  am  so  sorry!  No,  I  don't  mean  that  exactly — I  mean 
weVe  both  going  to  be  happy  if — if — it  works  well !" 

"What  works  well,  dear  child?" 

"A — a — charmed  valentine,  please,"  faltered  Helen,  "and  could  I 
^o  to — ^to  Margaret?" 

"Why,  surely,"  said  Margaret's  mother.  "Margaret  will  be  happy 
to  see  you,  Helen !" 

Mrs.  Hunt  unclosed  the  door  of  Margaret's  room  and  let  Helen 
go  in  alone. 

There  upon  the  couch  lay  sweet  little  Margaret,  her  dear  ankle 
cased  in  plaster,  and  her  face  just  a  wee  bit  pale. 

The  sight  wrung  poor  Helen's  heart.  Very  softly  she  walked  up 
to  the  couch  and  handed  Margaret  a  dainty  white  envelope.  A  glad 
look  g^ew  and  grew  on  Margaret's  face,  but  she  spoke  no  word,  as  if 
under  a  spell,  until  she  had  broken  the  seal.  Then,  after  a  moment, 
"Oh!  oh!  oh!"  she  laughingly  cried,  and  flung  her  arms  so  suddenly 
around  Helen  that  that  small  playmate  toppled  over  upon  the  couch 
and  then  Margaret  was  smiling  and  crying  and  kissing  her,  and  saying, 
*'\  didn't,  I  couldn't,  know  it  was  wrong  to  go  if  you  didn't  go,  too." 

Then  when  every  cloud  had  vanished,  Margaret  reached  down  her 
hand  from  the  couch  for  the  magic  valentine,  where  it  lay  on  the  rug, 
and  said,  as  she  put  it  in  Helen's  hand,  "I've  had  forty  today,  Helen, 
forty — but  this  is  the  dearest  of  all !" 


70  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

And  this  is  what  Helen  saw.  A  circle  of  the  cunningest  pink 
cupids  carrying  a  bright  golden  heart  which  bore  these  words,  "Helen's 
sorry  but  loving  heart*'  and  off  at  one  comer  was  another  delightful 
little  pink  cupid  holding  a  heart  bearing  these  words,  ''Margarets  for- 
giving loving  heart/'  and  underneath  all- was  this  perfectly  beautiful 
verse : 

This  little  valentine  with  love  I  bring — 

Could  anything  be  fairer? 
And  if  you  love  me,  Margie  dear. 
Please  kiss  the  bearer ! 

Of  course  a  charm  like  that  was  perfectly  sure  to  work. 

It  seemed  only  the  next  moment  when  Mrs.  Hunt  came  to  the 
door  with  such  a  mysterious  look  in  her  eyes. 

"Dearie  me !"  she  laughed,  "the  day  is  certainly  enchanted !" 

Then  she  stepped  back  and  in  a  moment  she  and  Aunt  Chloe  re- 
turned bearing  between  them  the  cunningest  round  table  with  the  love- 
liest luncheon  all  spread  out  upon  it.  Every  favorite  dainty  seemed  to 
be  there,  and  in  the  snowy  napkins  charming  valentines  nestled,  and 
the  chocolate  was  served  in  two  of  the  sweetest  loving-cups,  and  they 
were  valentines,  too,  for  Helen's  name  was  on  hers  and  Margaret's  on 
hers. 

"Oh!  oh!"  cried  both  little  friends,  ''this  is  the  dearest  of  all!" 
And  then,  for  no  reason  that  I  can  give,  they  fell  to  crying  and  smiling 
again,  the  sprained  ankle  never  once  thought  of. 

Over  her  loving-cup  Helen  said,  "It  was  the  worst  week  of  my 
life,  Margie !" 

And  Margaret,  over  her  loving-cup  said,  "I  guess  the  only  good 
thing  about  tfmt  week  is  that  it  will  make  us  remember  that  we  won't 
ever  have  another  like  it." 


THE  STORK'S  HUGE  NEST. 

The  following  details  concerning  the  structure  and  contents  of  a 
stork's  nest  investigated  on  the  summit  of  the  cathedral  of  Kolmar,  in 
Upper  Alsace,  may  be  of  interest.  The  city  architect  has  just  deliv- 
ered a  public  lecture  there  on  "Storks  and  Their  Ways."  He  describes 
a  stork's  nest  which  was  about  thirty  years  old.  It  measured  six  feet 
across,  and  was  five  feet  in  height.  It  weighed  sixteen  hundredweight, 
or  more  than  three  quarters  of  a  ton,  and  it  was  such  a  solid  mass  3iat 
it  had  to  be  broken  up  by  using  a  pickax. 

The  nest  was  made  of  twigs  of  wood  and  clay,  and  the  materials 
filled  twenty-four  sacks.  The  walls  of  the  nest  were  found  to  contain 
seventeen  black  stockings,  five  fur  caps,  the  sleeve  of  a  white  silk 
blouse,  three  old  shoes,  a  large  piece  of  leather  and  four  buttons  that 
had  belonged  to  a  railway  porter's  uniform. — The  Christian  Endeavor 
World. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  71 


HOW  TO  SAVE  TIME. 

BY  MARY  A.    WOOD. 

Where's  my  cap  ?  Do  help  me  find  it !" 

"Where  did  you  leave  it,  Jack  ?" 

"I  forget,  mother.    Somebody  must  have  hidden  it,  just  to  bother 

me!" 

"I  guess  not,"  said  his  sister  Kate.   "I  saw  it  hanging  on  a  chair 

last  night." 

"I  shall  surely  be  late.     He  told  me  to  be  there  at  nine  o'clock 

sharp." 

"Have  you  looked  in  the  closet?" 

"Yes,  it  isn't  there." 

"Could  it  by  any  possibility  be  on  the  hatrack  in  the  hall  ?" 

Out  rushed  Jac^c  to  look. 

"Here  it  is !"  called  Kate  pulling  it  from  under  a  sofa  pillow  on  the 

couch. 

"Have  you  your  overshoes  ?"  called  his  mother. 

"Don't  want  them;  the  ground  is  frozen  hard." 

"But  there  will  be  mud  at  noon." 

Back  he  came.    "Somebody  has  stolen  them !  I  know  I  left  them 

here  last  night." 

"I've  found  them !"  called  Kate. 

"I  forgot;  I  came  in  the  back  door,  didn't  I?" 

At  last  he  was  off.  It  was  Saturday ;  there  was  no  school,  so  he 
could  work  all  day  for  Mr.  Leavett.  He  had  missed  the  car,  and  he 
started  off  on  a  brisk  trot,  wishing  he  had  his  gloves,  for  the  air  was 
keen.  "I  left  them  with  my  cap,  I  think.  I  must  be  a  pretty  careless 
boy,  no  mistake.  Mother  and  Kate  are  always  telling  me  so ;  but  it's 
hard  for  a  fellow  to  put  his  things  where  they  belong.  It  would  surely 
save  time,  though  I  hope  Mr.  Leavett  won't  mind  very  much  if  I  am 
a  little  late  this  morning." 

Jack  came  home  at  noon.  "I'm  hungry  as  a  bear!"  he  said  as  he 
sat  down  to  dinner. 

"Were  you  busy  all  the  morning?"  asked  his  mother. 

"No,  mother,  and  I  suppose  it  was  my  own  fault.  I  was  so  late — 
I  missed  the  car,  you  know — that  Mr.  Leavett  thought  I  wa6  not  coming 
and  he  gave  two  errands  to  Alec  Hunter,  and  I  have  made  only  twenty 

cents.' 

"Why  were  you  late?"  asked  his  father. 

Jack's  face  flushed  at  the  question,  but  he  gave  a  truthful  account 
of  the  matter,  not  sparing  himself,  and  concluded  by  saying :  "I  wanted 
my  gloves  the  worst  way,  but  I've  no  idea  where  I  left  them.  Have  you 
seen  them  lying  around  anywhere,  Kate?  You  always  seem  to  know 
where  everything  is." 

"I  know  where  your  gloves  are,  and  for  once  you  put  them  in  their 
proper  place  and  forgot  to  look  there." 


72  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

** Can't  you  tell  a  fellow?  You  don't  mean" — For  Kate  had  picked 
up  the  coat  he  threw  down  on  a  chair  as  he  came  in,  and  pointed  to  one 
of  the  pockets. 

**Well,  I  am  a  goose!  They  were  in  my  pocket  all  the  time!  I'm 
going  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf.  You  needn't  laugh,  Miss  Kate.  I  mean 
it,  and  the  next  time  I  can't  find  my  belongings  you  may  let  me  hunt 
till  I  do  find  them." 


PROCRASTINATING  POLLY. 

BY  DAISY  WRIGHT  FIELD. 

^^  • 

"Procrastinating  Polly!"  How  would  you  have  liked  the  title? 
Not  very  well,  I'm  afraid,  and  neither  did  Polly  Fairchild,  but  even  she 
could  not  deny  that  it  was  quite  appropriate.  Late  for  breakfast,  late 
for  dinner,  late  for  supper,  late  for  school,  late  for  church,  late  for 
everything!  And  as  for  her  tasks — well,  Polly's  motto  seemed  to  be  a 
transposed  version  of  the  wellmeaning  old  adage,  "Never  leave  that  till 
to-morrow  which  you  can  do  to-day !"  Her  version  was,  "Never  do 
to-day  what  you  can  put  off  till  to-morrow."  Consequently,  confusion 
reigned  in  her  room,  her  clothes  were  never  mended,  her  lessons  never 
learned  on  time. 

"If  only  she  could  be  cured !"  sighed  her  mother. 

"She  shall  be  cured,"  asserted  her  father. 

A  new  rule  was  made.  Whatever  Polly  was  late  for,  she  was  to 
miss  entirely. 

The  very  first  morning  after  the  new  rule  went  into  effect,  she  was 
late  for  breakfast.  As  she  went  to  sit  down  at  her  place,  her  father 
shook  his  head,  kindly  but  firmly,  "Late,  no  breakfast,"  said  he.  Polly's 
cheeks  grew  as  red  as  the  ribbon  on  her  hair,  but  she  turned  away 
without  a  word.  She  was  noticeably  prompt  at  dinner,  and  her  father 
kept  her  plate  filled  as  often  as  it  was  emptied.  He  hoped  the  lesson 
wouldn't  need  repeating. 

The  next  morning  Polly  was  at  the  front  door  struggling  with 
her  rubbers  as  the  last  bell  rang  for  school.  Hastily  catching  up  her 
books  she  hurried  down  the  walk  to  the  gate,  but  was  gently  held  back 
by  her  father,  who  took  away  her  books. 

"No  school  to-day,"  he  said. 

"Why.  father!  Stay  away  from  school,  and  examination  only  a 
few  days  off?" 

"New  rule,  you  know.'*  explained  her  father.  "Rules  are  intended 
to  be  obeyed,  even  if.  at  times,  it  is  a  little  inconvenient." 

A  very  unwilling  girl  remained  at  home  that  day,  and  made  up  for 
it  by  hard  study  the  rest  of  the  week.    But  it  didn't  happen  again. 

Saturday  afternoon  her  father  announced  that  he  was  going  to  take 
them  all  for  a  ride  in  the  country,  and  told  Polly  to  be  ready  promptly 
at  three  o'clock.     On  the  minute,  mother,  Nell  and  little  Fred  were 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  73 

helped  into  the  new  carriage,  behind  the  shining  bays,  who  were  wildly 
pawing  the  turf  in  their  anxiety  to  be  off.  Ten  minutes  Mr.  Fairchild 
pulled  on  the  lines  to  hold  them  in  check,  but  Polly  did  not  come. 
Just  as  they  drove  through  the  big  gate,  a  white  vision  fluttered  down 
the  front  walk,  curls  flying,  pink  ribbons  streaming  out  behind,  hat  in 
hand. 

"Wait,  father,  Fm  coming!"  called  Polly's  voice.  ; 

"Can't  do  it.    New  rule!   Be  ready  on  time  next  Saturday.*' 

That  was  really  too  much — ^almost  more,  Polly  thought,  than  she 
deserved.  She  forgot  how  much  trouble  and  disappointment  she  had 
caused  others  in  the  past  by  her  fatal  habit  of  delay.  She  flung  herself 
down  on  the  garden  seat,  unmindful  of  the  crisp  lawn  and  fresh  ribbons, 
and  sobbed  dolefully.  The  remedy  was  rather  severe,  but  it  was  effec- 
tive, and  marked  the  end  of  her  procrastination. 

She  has  a  new  name  now,  and  she  lives  up  to  it  nobly.  It  is, 
'Trompt  Polly !" 


A  WISE  CHOICE. 

Classic  Greek  writers  tell  us  that  when  Hercules  had  grown  up, 
he  went  out  into  a  solitary  place  to  muse  over  his  future  course  of  life. 
After  a  while  he  saw  two  female  figures  approaching;  the  one  in 
white  apparel,  with  a  noble  aspect,  open  and  innocent ;  the  other  painted 
and  bedizened,  and  looking  to  see  if  people  looked  at  her.  This  last 
was  the  first  to  accost  him : 

"Oh,  Hercules,  I  see  that  you  are  perplexed  about  your  path  in 
life.  If  you  will  make  a  friend  of  me,!  shall  conduct  you  to  the  smooth- 
est and  most  charming  road.  You  will  not  be  troubled  with  business 
or  battles,  or  tasks  of  any  kind ;  but  your  whole  study  shall  be  where  to 
find  the  best  wines  and  the  nicest  dishes,  the  newest  scents  and  the  most 
fashionable  clothes,  the  merriest  companions  and  the  most  exciting 
amusements." 

"  And  pray,  madam,"  said  Hercules,  "what  may  be  your  name  ?" 

"My  name,"  she  replied,  "is  Pleasure,  although  my  enemies  have 
nicknamed  me  Vice." 

Then  said  the  other,  "Hercules,  I  am  sure  you  are  capable  of  noble 
deeds:  but  I  must  not  deceive  you  with  delusive  promises.  As  the 
Hig^her  Powers  have  arranged  the  world,  you  can  hope  for  nothing 
;E:ood  without  labor.  If  you  want  the  gods  to  be  your  friends,  you 
must  serve  them ;  if  you  want  to  be  loved,  you  must  make  yourself 
useful :  if  you  want  to  be  honored  by  Greece,  you  must  do  it  some  great 
service."  Then  Hercules  rose  up  to  follow  Virtue  along  the  rugged 
path  to  imrrortality. 

The  choice  of  Hercules  is  no  myth  in  the  case  of  those  who,  like 
Mo<;es.  rhoo<^e  rather  to  suffer  the  reproach  of  Christ  with  the  people 
of  God  than  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  sin  for  a  season. — Selecterl 


74  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

A  COMPOSITION  ON  GEORGE  WASHINGTON. 

BY  BERTHA  E.  BUSH. 

Hale  was  an  idle  little 
boy,  and  altogether  too  mis- 
chievous for  his  own  good,  yet 
still  one  of  the  most  lovable 
little  fellows  that  ever  drew 
funny  pictures  on  his  slate 
when  he  ought  to  have  been 
studying  his  lessons.  He  stood 
looking  up  at  his  teacher  now 
with  dancing  eyes  and  a 
cherub  curve  on  his  lips,  try- 
ing very  hard  to  appear  sober 
and  "in  earnest." 

"Please,  Miss  Gray,"  he 
said,  "I'll  write  it  to-night, 
honest,  if  you'll  let  me  go 
now.  You  see  Bob  said  he'd 
teach  me  to  skate  after  school. 
You  know  I've  got  some  new 
skates.  Miss  Gray." 

HARD   AT    WORK.  ,  "^f-    ^'^^  P^^y   '"^^   ,'?■ 

for  she  boarded  at  Hal  s 
house.  She  knew,  too,  how  hard  it  was  for  that  small  boy  ever  to  study 
at  home. 

"I'm  afraid  to,  Hal,"  she  said.  "You  might  try,  but  you  would 
surely  get  to  playing  with  somethftig." 

"No,  honest,  I  won't,"  said  the  little  fellow,  so  earnestly  that  Miss 
Gray  couldn't  but  trust  him.  "I'll  just  take  a  sheet  of  paper  and  a 
pencil,  and  I'll  stay  in  one  chair  till  I  get  it  done.  'Tisn't  a  long  job 
to  write  something  about  George  Washington,  Miss  Gray." 

Miss  Gray  was  soft-hearted,  and  she  let  him  go.  She  was  glad  she 
did,  as  she  saw  him  take  his  paper  and  pencil  after  supper  and  march 
over  to  the  small  home  desk,  looking  as  good  as  a  "Little/  Samuel," 
She  gazed  at  him  affectionately  as  the  stubby  pencil  began  to  move 
laboriously  up  and  down. 

"Dear  boy,"  she  thought,  with  a  tender  glance  at  the  close-cropped 
little  head  bent  over  the  paper,  upon  which  was  already  scrawled, 
"George  Washington  was  a  brave  and  honest  boy.  He  cut  down  his 
papa's  tree  with  his  hatchet." 

How  still  the  lamp-lit  house  was  with  Hal  so  quiet!  It  seemed 
a  long  while  to  Miss  Gray  before  the  clock  struck  a  small  boy's  bed- 
time. 

"Poor  child!  He  hasn't  had  any  play  this  whole  evening,"  thought 
she  with  a  tu^^ing  at  her  heart,  for  the  absorbed  little  figure  was  so 
very  childish. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  75 

"Come  here,  Hal,  and  let  me  see  what  you  have  written,"  she 
called  gently. 

Out  bounded  Hal,  the  very  image  of  glad  eagerness,  with  parted 
lips  and  shining  eyes.  He  held  up  a  curious  little  figure  constructed 
from  the  paper  which  still  bore  the  two  sentences  about  George  Wash* 
ington. 

"Oh,  Hal!"  exclaimed  Miss  Gray,  in  dismay;  but  the  boy  was 
so  happy  that  she  couldn't  bear  to  reprove  him,  although  those  first 
two  mutilated  lines  were  all  that  had  been  written  of  the  promised 
composition.  The  busy  fingers  had  not  been  using  the  pencil  in  writing 
about  George  Washington.  No,  Hal  had  "had  an  fdea,"  and  with 
him  was  to  act,  in  everything  except  in  the  line  of  study. 

He  had  folded  his  sheet  of  paper  and  cut  it  in  halves.  On  one 
of  the  halves  he  had  drawn  a  comical  boy,  with  big  round  eyes  and 
a  wide  grinning  mouth.  With  his  jacknife  he  had  cut  out  the  eyes 
and  mouth. 

On  the  other  piece  of  paper,  in  just  the  position  of  the  cutout  eyes 
and  mouth,  he  had  drawn  two  eyes,  also  a  projecting  tongue  which  he 
had  cut  around,  all  but  the  upper  part,  so  that  it  could  be  bent  forward. 

Then  he  placed  the  second  paper  behind  the  frst,  and  by  thrusting 
the  tongue  through  the  hole  he  had  made  for  the  mouth,  and  moving 
the  back  paper  a  little,  up  and  down,  to  right  and  left,  he  made  the 
eyes  roll  round  and  the  tongue  wiggle  so  comically  that  the  little  paper 
image  was  irresistible.  He  held  it  up  to  his  teacher,  giggling  all  over 
with  delight,  without  a  thought  of  the  unwritten  composition  on  George 
Washington. 

"Isn't  it  funny?"  said  Hal.  "Won't  he  make  the  boys  laugh  to- 
morrow ?" 

"Very  funny!"  assented  Miss  Gray.  "Yes,  I  think  the  boys  will 
laugh."    And  she  let  him  go  without  a  word. 

But  the  next  night  Hal  had  to  stay  after  school  and  write  his 
composition  on  George  Washington. 

LINCOLN. 

BY  EDWIN   MARKHAM. 

The  color  of  the  ground  was  in  him  the  red  Earth, 

The  tang  and  odor  of  the  primal  things. 

The  rectitude  and  patience  of  the  rocks ; 

The  gladness  of  the  wind  that  shakes  the  corn ; 

The  courage  of  the  bird  that  dares  the  sea; 

The  justice  of  the  rain  that  loves  all  leaves; 

The  pity  of  the  snow  that  hides  all  scars; 

The  loving  kindness  of -the  wayside  well : 

The  tolerance  and  equity  of  light 

That  gives  as  freely  to  the  shrinking  weed 

As  to  the  great  oak  flaring  to  the  wind. 


7(3  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


HARRY'S  TWO  LOSSES. 

BY  SARAH  N.  m'cREERY. 

'*One  ball,  two  books,  three  schoolbooks,  a  top  and  a  ball  of  twine," 
counted  Mrs.  Hall.  "Harry  I  thought  you  said  if  I  gave  you  a  room 
of  your  own  you  would  keep  all  your  things  there.  How  do  these 
happen  to  be  on  my  table?'* 

**I  was  so  sleepy  last  night,"  exclaimed  Harry.  "Fll  put  them 
away,  now." 

"You  always  have  a  good  excuse,"  observed  his  mother.  "Really, 
Harry,  I  don't  know  how  I  am  to  teach  you  to  be  more  careful.  You 
put  nothing  away  unless  I  follow  after  you." 

"Well,  what's  the  use  of  being  so  particular?  I  can  always  find 
my  things — after  I  hunt  a  little  while,  anyway,"  he  added. 

Mrs.  Hall  smiled.  "Often  you  hunt  more  than  a  little  while," 
she  said. 

Harry  made  no  response.  He  was  writing  an  essay,  and  the  book 
from  which  he  was  getting  some  help  was  due  at  the  library  the  very 
next  day.  The  essay  had  to  be  finished  before  the  book  was  returned. 
At  five  o'clock  he  gave  a  shout  that  meant  he  was  through;  he  put 
away  his  essay  and  was  off  for  play. 

The  next  morning  Mrs.  Hall  began  housecleaning.  "Harry,  I 
found  some  of  your  papers  in  the  sideboard  drawer,  see  if  you  want 
them.     It  not,  I  will  put  them  in  the  fire,"  she  said. 

"They're  old  arithmetic  lessons,  burn  them  up,"  Harry  answered 
carelessely. 

"You  would  better  look  to  be  sure,"  returned  his  mother. 

Harry  turned  them  over  hastily.  "They're  no  good,  dump  them  in- 
to the  fire,"  and  he  was  off  to  school. 

One  evening  later  in  the  week,  Harry  was  searching  throug^h 
everything,  and  things  looked  as  if  a  whirlwind  had  passed  over. 

"Harry,  what  in  the  world  are  you  hunting?"  his  mother  inquired. 

'*My  essay;  I  can't  find  it  anywhere,  and  it's  due  to-morrow.  1 
am  sure  I  put  it  in  my  desk." 

"Let  me  help  you  search  your  desk;  perhaps  you  overlooked  it." 
Mrs.  Hall  went  through  every  nook  and.  corner  of  the  desk,  but  no 
essay.  Finally,  she  said:  "Harry,  could  it  be  possible  that  your  essay 
was  in  the  sideboard  drawer?     I  burned  the  papers  that  were  there, 

vou  know." 

Harry  gasped  and  there  was  a  hopeless  look  on  his  face.  "It  was 
mother,  and  now  it  is  burned  up.    What  shall  I  do?"  and  he  began 

to  cry. 

"Can't  you  rewrite  it  from  memory?" 

Harry  shook  his  head.     "It  will  take  ten  from  my  grade,"   he 

sobbed. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  77 

"Tell  Miss  Elliott  and  she  will  excuse  you  this  time,  perhaps." 

"She  wouldn't  believe  it,"  he  said  defiantly.  "And  she'd  take  ten 
off  my  grade  anyway.    I  did  want  to  beat  Harold  Wilson  this  month." 

"You  will  have  to  get  the  book  and  rewrite  your  essay  on  Satur- 
day; it  is  the  only  thing  you  can  do,"  said  Mrs.  Hall. 

"We  were  going  skating,  Saturday,"  sniffled  Harry. 

"You  will  have  to  take  a  lower  grade  or  give  up  the  skating  party," 
answered  his  mother.  "Think  about  it  and  decide  which  you  would 
rather  do." 

On  Saturday,  with  a  heavy  heart,  Harry  watched  the  boys  start 
for  the  pond.  Then  he  turned  to  his  essay;  by  three  o'clock  it  was 
rewritten  and  copied,  and  he  walked  straight  upstairs  and  put  it  in 
his  desk.  When  he  came  down  he  said  to  his  mother:  "I  am  going  to 
try  to  put  things  where  they  belong  after  this.  I  think  I  have  learned 
a  lesson." 

"It  took  two  losses  before  you  learned  it,"  his  mother  said.  "A 
lost  essay  and  a  lost  day  of  pleasure." 


SECRECY. 

BY  J.  WARREN  MBRRILL. 

I  sent  Papa  a  valentine, 

He'll  never  know  'twas  I,  I  hope. 
I  bought  it  all  myself,  you  see. 

And  slipped  it  in  the  envelope. 

And  then  I  laid  it  on  his  desk 
And  only  wrote  a  single  line — 

"To  dear  Papa,"  was  all  I  said ; 

"With  love  from  old  St,  Valentine." 


MY  LIVING  I  VE  TO   1 


SAYS  THE  CHICK. 
"I've  got  no  time  to  waste,"  says  this  most  busy  chick ; 
"I've  got  my  meals  to  get.  and  got  to  get  them  quick ; 

I've  got  no  time  to  stop  and  chirp  and  look  around ; 

My  living  I've  to  make — I'll  make  it,  too,  I'm  bound !" 


Baby  Paul  is  so  tall  he  can  lead  the  Babies  all. 

See  them  wave  flags  so  brave,  eyes  so  bright  though 

some  look  grave.    Flajs  for  brave  men  good  and 

true,  Washington  and  Lincoln  too. 

Take  care  babies,  march  away, 
need  not  stop,  hard  names  to  say. 
You  can  learn  and  say  them  all  when 
you  grow  quite  large  and  tall.  Feb- 
ruary counts  two  in  the  year  still 
bright  and  new. 

Father  in  Heaven,  so 

great  and  so  dear,  please 

bless  all  the  babies  through  all  the  year. 

— Lula  Greene  Richards 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  79 


VISITING  THE  SICK. 

"But,  mother,  I  want  it  now  !'*  said  a  fretful  little  voice  in  the  next 


room. 


Beth  has  said  that  about  fifty  tim^s,"  thought  Clare,  turning  a 
page.    "I  shall  be  glad  when  she  gets  over  the  measles." 

"I  suppose  you  know,  mother,"  pursued  Beth,  "Dollykins  hasn't  had 
a  new  dress  for  a  long,  time,  and  I  want  her  to  have  one  right  away !" 

"But  you  wouldn't  want  me  to  stop  now  to  make  one,  just  when  I 
ought  to  go  downstairs  and  get  father's  supper!"  Mother's  voice 
sounded  tired. 

"Oh,  dear!"  sighed  Beth,  twisting  about  in  the  big,  easy-chair;  for 
she  was  being  allowed  to  sit  up  this  afternoon.  "I'm  so  tired  of  seeing 
poor  Dollykins  in  the  same  old  clothes !" 

"Oh,  dear!"  echoed  Clare  to  herself,  "I  can  hardly  tell  what  I'm 
reading!" 

"And  'most  everything  else  I  want  I  can't  have,  becalise  it  will  hurt 
my  eyes !     I'm  tired  of  these  old  measles !" 

Clare  peeped  over  the  top  of  her  book  into  the  darkened  room. 
Then  she  looked  back  at  the  story.  It  was  hard  to  leave  it  without  find- 
ing out  a  little  more  about  the  white  rabbit  she  had  just  come  to.  But, 
keeping  her  place  with  one  finger,  she  went  into  the  other  room  and 
whispered  something  to  her  mother.  It  was  easier  to  shut  the  book 
tight  and  lay  it  on  the  table  after  she  had  seen  the  relieved  nod  and  smile 
which  were  her  answer. 

"Look  here,  Beth  Gorham !"  she  said,  unfastening  the  clasp  at  the 
back  of  her  neck.  "How  would  you  like  to  wear  my  coral  beads  awhile  ? 
Mother's  going  downstairs  to  put  the  vegetables  on,  and  I'm  going  up 
attic  to  find  something  you'd  like  to  see." 

"I'd  like  to  wear  them !"  cried  Beth,  putting  up  both  little  hands. 

Qare  took  Dollykins  in  her  arms  and  ran  up  the  garret  stairs. 

"You  sit  there,  if  you  please,  while  I  rummage,"  she  said,  depositing 
the  rag  doll  in  the  foot  of  the  old  wooden  cradle,  which,  for  a  great 
many  years,  had  rocked  every  baby  in  the  Gorham  family. 

Clare  opened  a  trunk  and  lifted  oiit  her  grandmother's  Paisley 
shawl.  "I'll  put  this  nice  red-and-black  thing  on  first,  to  keep  me  warm 
in  this  chilly  room,"  she  said. 

Her  next  move  was  to  open  very  carefully  the  large  bandbox  in 
which  reposed  her  great-aunt  Sophia's  rose-trimmed  bonnet.  Very 
gently  she  set  this  upon  her  head,  and  tied  the  green  ribbons  under  her 
left  ear. 

"It's  only  since  I  was  eight  that  I've  been  allowed  to  touch  this 
lovely  bonnet,  Dollykins,"  said  Clare  with  dignity.  "And  now  I  must 
get  out  the  fan,  and  hunt  up  some  of  Aunt  Kate's  doll  clothes  for  you, 
my  dear." 

Dollykins'  red-ink  mouth  smiled  cheerfully  while  Clare  tried  on  a 


80  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

white  lawn  dress,  a  pink  calico,  and  then  a  red  silk,  but  none  of  them 
fitted. 

"Aunt  Kate  made  them  for  some  slim,  lady  doll,  I  guess,"  Qare 
decided.     "But  perhaps  you  could  wear  the  red  one  with  a  sash." 

Beth's  voice  downstairs  reminded  her  that  she  must  not  get  too 
deeply  interested  in  the  bandboxes  and  trunks. 

"Fm  just  finishing  dressing  my  daughter,  Beth,"  she  responded, 
hurriedly  adjusting  a  ribbon  round  Dollykins*  plump  body.  "Then 
we're  coming  to  make  you  a  call." 

A  little  later,  when  Mrs.  Gorham  came  up  with  the  supper  tray,  she 
found  Beth  laughing  and  talking  happily  with  her  guests. 

"How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Gorham  ?"  said  the  old-fashioned  lady  in 
the  qaintly  figured  shawl,  bobbing  her  big  bonnet  in  a  solemn  bow.  "Fm 
Mrs,  John  Alden,  and  this  is  my  child.  We  heard  your  little  girl  was 
sick  and  came  to  visit  her." 

"Fm  glad  to  meet  you,  Mrs.  Alden,"  said  Mrs.  Gorham,  shaking 
hands.      "Did  you  come  over  in  the  'Mayflower'?" 

"Just  landed!"  laughed  Clare.      "I  was  so  seasick." 

"Fm  very  thankful  your  ship  came  when  she  did,"  said  Mrs.  Gor- 
ham smilingly,  "or  else  I  might  have  had  a  hard  time  with  my  little 
patient  here.     You  have  been  a  real  help  to  me,  Mrs.  Alden." 

And  she  kissed  Clare's  forehead  under  the  rosebud  face  trimming 
of  the  big  bonnet. — Selected. 


Nothing  but  harmony,  honest  industry,  and  frugality  are  necessary 
to  make  us  a  great  nation. — George  Washington, 


SOMETHING  BETTER. 

BY  CLARA  J.  DENTON. 

(For  a  little  girl.) 

I  cannot  be  a  Washington, 

However  hard  I  try, 
But  into  something  I  must  grow 

As  fast  the  days  go  by. 
The  world  needs  women,  good  and  true, 

Fm  glad  I  can  be  one, 
For  that  is  even  better  than 

To  be  a  Washington. 


BY  JEANNETTE  A.  MARKS. 

Just  because  this  is  a  true  story  you  must  know  that  it  is  ever  so 
much  more  interesting  than  some  tale  that  never  happened. 

Most  people  at  the  time  we  knew  her  called  her  the  Parlor  Hen; 
her  other  name  was  a  very  curious  one — Pertelote,  a  name  the  people  in 
Bloomsbury  had  never  heard  before.  Her  father's  name  was  Chaun- 
tecleer.  In  vain  Miss  Amanda  explained  that  hundreds  of  years  ago  a 
poet  had  told  about  a  hen  and  a  cock  called  Pertelote  and  Chauntecleer. 
The  people  in  Bloomsbury  did  not  care  for  what  poets  had  said  hun- 
dreds of  years  ago,  so  this  chicken  finally  went  by  the  name  of  the 
Parlor  Hen. 

The  Parlor  Hen  had  early  become  an  orphan ;  her  mother  had  died  * 
while  Pertelote  was  still  a  downy  little  chick,  all  yellow.     Chickens  are 
not  as  fond  of  their  brothers  and  sisters  as  children  are,  so  that  Perte- 
lote did  not  have  the  satisfaction  of  ever  knowing  which  ones  they  were. 

As  little  Pertelote  had  no  natural  protector,.  Miss  Amanda  fed  and 
tended  her.  She  was  allowed  to  come  and  go,  and  to  do  very  much 
as  she  pleased ;  and  she  was  such  a  dainty  brown  leghorn  that  she  be- 
came the  pet  of  Miss  Amanda  and  Miss  Amanda's  father,  the  Deacon. 
She  would  walk  into  the  kitchen  with  a  "cl-u-ck,  cl-u-ck,  cluk.  cluk," 
and  go  up  to  Miss  Amanda,  which  may  have  meant  nothing  at  all ;  but 
Miss  Amanda  took  it  to  mean  "cru-vi-bs,  cru-m-bs,"  so  she  would 
always  put  a  few  in  a  pie  plate  upon  the  floor.  Then  Pertelote  would 
walk  out  upon  the  back  piazza  and  cock  her  head  to  one  side  and  eye 
the  Deacon.  Occasionally  she  would  draw  up  one  foot  and  blink,  as  if 
the  sight  of  this  reverend  man  filled  her  with  admiration ;  and  the 
Deacon  frequently  would  remark  that  he  thought  that  chicken  was  un- 
commonly clever.  In  fact,  Pertelote  was  so  much  at  home  in  the  house 
that  she  would  enter  and  occupy  the  parlor  whenever  she  chose,  and 
Miss  Amanda  often  found  the  little  hen  in  there  reposing  on  the  pillow 
on  the  horse-hair  sofa. 

But  when  winter  came  Pertelote  was  sent  to  the  hen  house  to  stay 
with  the  other  chickens.  Miss  Amanda  and  the  Deacon  missed  her  very 
much,  but  to  have  a  chicken  in  the  kitchen  in  winter-time  was  out  of 
the  question. 

But  what  do  you  think  happened  in  the  spring?   When  the  chickens 


82  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

were  let  out  again  Pertelote  came  directly  back  to  the  house.  In  May 
she  began  to  lay  eggs.  And  where  do  you  think  Miss  Amanda  found 
Pertelote's  first  ^gg"^  On  the  horse-hair  sofa  in  the  parlor!  Miss 
Amanda  was  horrified — a  hen  laying  eggs  on  her  parlor  sofa — the  idea ! 

When  the  spring  planting  was  over,  Miss  Amanda  went  away  on 
a  visit  for  a  few  days.  Her  last  injunction  to  her  father  was,  "See 
that  you  keep  that  hen  out  of  the  parlor !" 

Several  times  the  Deacon  eyed  Pertelote  severely  as  he  came  upon 
her  strutting  around  on  the  piazzas.  And  every  day  he  looked  carefully 
into  the  parlor  where  all  was  dusk  and  quiet.  So  far  as  he  could  see, 
Pertelote  was  invariably  in  the  kitchen  or  on  the  piazzas. 

When  Miss  Amanda  came  home  her  first  question  was,  "Father, 
has  the  hen  been  laying  in  the  parlor  any?*'  "I  ain't  seen  her,"  replied 
the  Deacon.  Miss  Amanda  felt  much  relieved  as  she  untied  the  strings 
of  her  bonnet.  She  bustled  over  the  house  putting  things  into  order ; 
she  pared  some  potatoes  for  supper,  put  on  codfish  to  boil,  mixed  up 
soda  biscuit,  and  then  went  into  the  cool  dark  parlor  to  rest.  She  peered 
around  for  a  second  or  two  and  was  just  about  to  sit  down  on  the  horse- 
hair sofa  when,  with  a  ''Cluck,  cluck,  cluck,  cluck,  cluck  T  and  a  shrill 
cackle  and  a  great  beating  of  wings,  Pertelote  flew  up. 

"Well !"  ejaculated  Miss  Amanda,  "if  here  aren*t  six  eggs  on  the 
^ofa  pillow !  I  s'pose  Pertelote  calculated  to  set  here  on  the  sofa, 
father !"  she  called. 

The  Deacon  was  crestfallen  when  Miss  Amanda  pointed  out  to  him 
that  for  every  day  of  her  absence  Pertelote  had  gone  into  the  parlor  and 
laid  an  tgg  on  the  sofa ! 

The  warm  eggs  were  taken  promptly  out  to  a  shed  adjoining  the 
house  and  there  put  in  a  box  filled  with  hay.  Then  the  Deacon  care- 
fully placed  Pertelote  down  upon  the  eggs. 

But  during  supper  Pertelote  walked  into  the  kitchen.  "Cluck, 
cluck,  cluck,"  she  called  to  Miss  Amanda.  "You'll  get  no  crumbs — 
you're  going  right  back  on  to  your  nest,"  said  Miss  Amanda  firmly, 
picking  her  up. 

All  the  next  dav  both  Miss  Amanda  and  the  Deacon  labored  to 
keep  Pertelote  on  her  nest.  She  would  not  stay  in  the  box,  but  wan- 
dered every  other  half  hour  into  the  house. 

A  little  brood  of  pretty  Pertelote's  chickens  would  be  valuable. 
And  by  evening  Miss  Amanda  had  made  up  her  mind  to  a  compromise. 
Pertelote  should  not  set  on  the  sofa  pillow,  but  the  box  might  be  brought 
into  the  parlor. 

''Caw-W'iv,  cauhzv-zi^r  sang  Pertelote  cheerfully  as  she  was  car- 
ried by  the  Deacon  from  the  warm  shed  to  the  cool  dark  parlor.  Two 
or  three  times  she  flew  up  on  the  sofa,  standing  on  that  eminence  to  eye 
the  box  on  the  floor.  But  at  last  with  apparent  content  she  settled  down 
into  the  straw. 

That  evening  Miss  Amanda  said  to  her  father,  "Td  hate  to  have 
folks  know  we  were  hatching  chickens  in  our  parlor." 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


83 


"  'Tis  a  bit  out  of  the  ordinary,"  replied  the  Deacon,  with  a  twinkle 
in  his  eye,  "but  women  and  hens  always  have  Had  their  own  way." 

And  there  in  Miss  Amanda's  cherished  parlor  ten  little  downy 
chicles  were  hatched,  and  ten  little  downy  chicks  strutted  through  the 
parlor  and  out  upon  the  piazza  and  so  into  the  yard  after  their  anxious 
clucking  mama,  Madame  Pertelote.  But  they  had  scarcely  time  to  get 
the  shells  off  their  backs  before  Miss  Amanda  closed  and  locked  the 
parlor  door,  exclaiming,  "It's  the  last  time  chickens  are  hatched  in  my 
parlor!     I  trust  no  one  will  ever  hear  of  this!" 

But  for  some  reason  I'ertelote  was  always  afterwards  known  in 
Bloomsburv  as  the  Parlor  Hen! 


ItRIGllTOX  m  SUMMER. 


BRIGHTON  iN   WINTER, 


84  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

THE  MOTTO  OF  THE  BLACK  KNIGHT. 

BY   CLEM   V.     WAGNER. 

As  you  descend  from  the  Brocken,  in  the  Harz  Mountains  in  Ger- 
many, you  cannot  but  be  impressed  with  the  pretty,  primitive  scene 
just  as  you  cross  the  brook  that  goes  gurgling  from  the  mountains  into 
the  valley.  Here,  nestling  against  the  sheltering  hill-side,  stands  a 
homelike  little  cottage,  covered  from  the  foundation  to  the  top  of  its 
broad,  German  chimneys  with  luxuriant  vines,  that  fashion  them- 
selves into  natural  festoons  and  wreaths  that  call  words  of  admiration 
to  your  lips  as  you  look  upon  them.  And  then,  just  a  few  paces  down 
the  valley,  at  the  brookside,  the  eye  is  delighted  with  the  most  vener- 
able, picturesque  little  water  mill  imaginable.  Its  low,  tiled  roof,  seem- 
ingly a  part  of  the  overhanging  mountain,  its  .  capacious  doors  and 
windows,  so  characteristic  of  this  part  of  the  fatherland,  its  unique, 
slow-turning  wheel,  all  together  make  one  think  of  a  picture  of  one 
of  the  old  Flemish  masters.  And  the  clear,  gurgling  waters  of  the 
mountain  side,  dash  over  the  water  wheel,  and  rush  exultingly  down 
the  valley,  make  one  involuntarily  smile  in  sympathy  with  the  scene. 
The  good  German  poet  must  have  looked  upon  just  such  a  mill  and 
just  such  a  brook,  when  he  sang  those  musical  words : 

"I  heard  a  brooklet  gushing 

From  its  rocky  fountain  near, 
Down  in  the  valley  rushing, 

So  fresh  and  wondrous  clear.*' 

This  little  mountain  cottage  was  the  home  of  Franz  Kemer.  One 
could  imagine  it  as  the  home  of  an  artist,  and,  young  as  he  was — for  he 
was  only  fifteen — Franz  had  thoughts  that  bade  him  go  forth  into  the 
world  with  pencil  and  brush  and  pallet  and  carry  his  message  of  the 
beautiful  and  true.  Just  how  this  should  come  to  pass  the  boy  had  no 
idea.  He  knew  only  the  soul-longing.  The  little  dairy,  and  the  limited 
patronage  of  the  mill  brought  his  parents  but  a  meager  livelihood  for 
themselves  and  the  half-dozen  hungry  children  that  so  eagerly  gathered 
about  the  table  at  mealtime.  Franz  knew  that  the  best  they  could  do 
was  to  help  their  children  through  the  school  in  the  neighboring  village. 
All  beyond  was  yet  a  dream. 

One  afternoon  while  rummaging,  boy-like  in  an  old  chest  in  the 
attic,  Franz  came  across  a  strange,  rude  picture  painted  upon  a  narrow 
wooden  panel.  As  he  examined  it  curiously  he  wondered  that  he  never 
had  seen  it  before.  Its  colors  were  somewhat  faded  by  time,  but  its 
outlines  were  still  quite  plain.  On  a  golden  background  was  painted  a 
black  knight  standing  erect  in  armor,  bearing  in  one  hand  a  red  shield, 
and  in  the  other  a  silver  spear,  pointing  downward  to  a  brief  inscrip- 
tion in  Latin. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  85 

What  did  it  all  mean  ?  Franz  was  mystified.  He  had  Latin  lessons 
in  the  village  school,  and  he  tried  to  make  out  the  inscription  on  the 
picture,  but  somehow  could  find  no  meaning  in  it.  At  length  he  car- 
ried the  picture  and  his  questions  downstairs  to  his  mother. 

"Why,  my  son  where  did  you  find  it  ?"  she  said,  smiling  down  upon 
him.  "That  is  the  old  coat  of  arms  of  the  Harzbergs,  the  name  by 
which  your  father's  family  used  to  be  known,  long,  long  ago,  when 
knighthood  was  in  the  land." 

"But  what  does  it  say?"  asked  Franz,  pointing  to  the  inscription 
below  the  spear. 

"That  was  the  motto  of  the  house,"  answered  his  mother,  "and  I 
suspect  that  is  about  the  only  thing  in  the  coat  of  arms  worth  thinking 
about  now.-  The  words  mean,  This  thing  now.'  " 

"But  that  is  not  much  plainer  than  the  Latin,"  protested  the  boy. 

Then  the  mother  went  on  to  explain  that  the  thought  in  the  mind 
of  the  one  who  had  adopted  the  motto  seemed  to  have  been  that  men 
do  things  in  life,  not  by  running  off  to  distant  scenes  and  places,  but 
by  taking  hold  at  once  of  the  duty  and  opportunity  that  lie  just  before 
them  to-day.  "Your  uncle  Gerhard,"  she  went  on,  "who  became  a 
great  merchant  at  Colonge,  as  you  know,  used  to  think  a  great  deal 
of  this  motto.  He  used  to  declare  that,  next  to  the  help  of  heaven,  he 
owed  his  own  success  to  this  old  family  maxim." 

This  conversation  gave  Franz  more  serious  boyish  thoughts.  From 
that  moment  he  cherished  the  little  panel,  and  hung  it  by  his  bedside, 
where,  morning  and  evening,  he  could  look  upon  the  stanch  black 
knight  dfid  the  potent  inscription. 

One  bright  summer  afternoon,  not  long  after  the  incident  just 
recounted,  Franz  was  reclining  under  a  fir  tree  by  the  brookside,  when 
the  hoof  beats  of  many  horses  sounded  on  the  highway,  and  the  next 
minute  a  showy  cavalcade  passed  by.  At  the  head  of  the  company  rode 
a  stately  gentlemen  wearing  such  a  gay  uniform,  and  looking  round 
him  with  such  an  air  of  c5mmand  that  Franz  involuntarily  doffed  his 
cap  as  the  gentleman's  eye  fell  upon  him.  The  riders  turned  abruptly 
at  the  forking  of  the  road,  and  the  boy  knew  they  were  going  to  the 
stately  old  castle  that  overlooked  the  valley  from  the  neighboring 
mountain. 

Just  as  the  lad  was  about  to  return  to  his  daydream  under  the 
fir  tree,  something  red  and  glistening  in  the  highway  caught  his  at- 
tention, and  the  next  minute  he  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise, 
as  he  held  in  his  hand  a  great  leathern  pocketbook,  closed  at  either 
*  end  with  glittering  silver  clasps.  The  great  man  must  have  lost  it. 
What  should  he  do  with  it?  Franz  was  about  to  rush  into  the  cottage 
to  consult  with  his  mother  as  to  the  best  way  of  returning  the  pocket- 
book  to  its  owner,  when  the  thought  come  to  him  that  possibly  the 
company  of  riders  paused  only  momentarily  at  the  castle,  and  then  go 
its  way,  and  he  thus  miss  them.  The  next  minute  he  had  thrust  the 
precious  book  inside  of  his  jacket  and  was  rushing  uphill  toward  the 
castle. 


86  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

The  "great  man" — he  was  really  the  elector,  though  Franz  did 
not  then  know  it — had  just  seated  himself  with  his  old  friend  in  the 
castle  library,  when  an  orderly  saluted  him  from  the  doorway. 

"Your  excellency,"  he  said,  "there  is  a  lad  at  the  door  who  asks 
to  see  you.  He  will  not  tell  what  he  wants,  and  says  he  will  stay  at 
the  door  until  you  come  out,  if  he  cannot  see  you  in  any  other  way." 

And  so  Franz,  cap  in  hand,  his  face  flushed  from  the  haste  he  had 
made  in  climbing  the  hill  road,  came  into  the  library,  his  bare  feet  sink- 
ing deep  into  the  rich  rugs,  the  sensation  for  the  first  time  causing  hinfi 
to  remember  that  he  had  on  no  shoes.  This  thought,  together  with  the 
unusual  surroundings,  and  his  awe  of  the  soldierly-looking  gentlemen 
before  him,  for  a  minute  deprived  him  of  speech,  and  so^  without  a 
word  he  held  out  the  great  pocketbook  toward  its  supposed  owner. 

"My  pocketbook!"  exclaimed  the  gentleman.  "Why,  where  did 
you  get  it?" 

Franz  had  now  somewhat  regained  his  composure  and  could  tell 
of  the  finding  of  the  book,  and  his  efforts  to  overtake  the  owner. 

"And  you  have  not  even  opened  it,"  said  the  gentleman,  examining 
the  clasps.    "I  must  reward  you  for  your  trouble." 

"I  thank  you,"  said  the  boy."  I  want  nothing." 

"But  I  must  give  you  something,"  urged  the  other. 

"I  thank  you,"  repeated  Franz,  "but  is  not  the  pocketbook  yours." 

"It  certainly  is,"  said  the  gentleman,  a  little  puzzled. 

"Then  why  should  you  pay  me  for  giving  you  what  is  yours  and 
not  mine?" 

The  boy*s  blunt,  honest  tones  showed  he  was  very  much  in*  earnest, 
and  the  great  man  and  his  friend  passed  significant  glances  at  this 
aparently  new  kind  of  logic. 

"You  are  an  honest  lad,"  said  the  elector,  taking  Franz's  hand 
respectfully.  And  then,  wondering  if  the  boy  had  had  no  inclination 
to  keep  the  pocketbook,  he  inquired,  "But  -will  you  allow  me  to  ask 
what  thought  you  had  when  you  found  the  book  ?" 

"  This  thing  now,'  "  was  the  rather  puzzling  reply. 

"I  do  not  understand,"  said  the  gentleman. 

And  then,  with  his  eyes  bent  upon  the  floor  and  twisting  his  cap 
nervously,  in  broken  sentences  Franz  told  just  enough  of  the  story 
of  the  motto  for  his  hearers  to  guess  the  rest.  "I  only  thought,"  he 
added,  "that  I  must  get  your  pocketbook  to  you  right  away." 

The  great  man  not  only  smiled  now,  but  joined  his  friend  in  a 
chorus  of  hearty  laughter.  The  interview  ended  by  the  gentleman's 
writing  Franz's  name  in  the  restored  pocketbook,  thanking  him  heartily 
as  he  shook  his  hand  in  parting,  and  the  boy  walked  down  from  the 
castle,  proud  and  happy,  and  certainly  an  inch  taller  than  when  he  went 
up  a  half  hour  before. 

When  the  village  school  opened  in  the  fall,  there  came  a  strange 
awakening  of  ambitious  longing  among  the  members  of  the  class  in 
drawing. .  On  the  first  day  of  the  term  the  instructor  of  the  class  an- 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  67 

nounced  that  the  governilient  had  arranged  for  a  competition,  open  to 
all  pupils  of  the  schools  of  this  grade,  in  the  district,  and  that  a  series 
of  prizes  would  be  awarded  for  the  best  work  in  drawing  and  painting 
submitted  by  such  pupils  during  the  coming  six  months.  He  ended 
by  distributing  printed  circulars  setting  forth  the  conditions  of  the  com- 
petition. 

After  much  discussion,  six  pupils  of  the  school  announced  their 
determination  to  enter  the  competition.  Franz  Kerner  was  one  of  the 
six. 

The  old  longing  had  come  to  Franz,  with  a  new  fervor  borne  of 
the  determination  to  meet  opportunity,  now  that  it  had  come.  But 
what  should  be  his  subject?  Long  he  lay  under  the  fir  trees  and  jK)n- 
dered  over  it.  Hans  Elsser,  he  knew,  was  going  to  paint  the  "Parth- 
enon." George  Gissen's  subject  was  "Hannibal  in  the  Alps."  Max 
Frensen,  ambitious,  as  usual,  was  working  energetically  to  portray  the 
**Chariot  of  Neptune."  Jorn  Schmidt  called  his  effort,  "Minerva  in 
Armor."  Little  Marie  Lange,  with  a  burst  of  patriotic  zeal,  was  paint- 
ing a  fanciful  portrait  of  Hermann,  the  great  German  hero.  As  Franz 
thought  of  these  classical  subjects,  selected  with  the  high  notions  com- 
mon to  boys  and  girls  of  that  age,  he  hardly  liked  them,  but  he  thought, 
with  chargin,  that  these  others  had  done  better  than  he,  for  as  yet  he 
had  not  come  to  any  decision.  One  day  as  he  lay  by  the  brookside, 
watching  the  gurgling  water  and  dreaming  of  the  picture  that  was  yet 
to  be,  suddenly  the  old  motto  of  the  black  knight  flashed  into  his  mind ! 

"  This  thing  now  ;'  *this  thing  now.'  "  As  he  uttered  the  words 
the  second  time,  the  boy  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  the  next  moment  a 
passer-by  would  have  been  astonished  to  see  him  fairly  dancing  along 
the  side  of  the  rivulet,  up  the  hill  to  the  little  bridge,  over  the  stream, 
then  back  again,  his  eyes  all  the  time  bent  in  one  direction.  Then  he 
rushed  to  the  cottage  to  pour  his  new  idea  into  the  willing  ear  of  his 
mother. 

Soon  it  was  known  that  Franz  was  at  work  on  his  picture.  But 
his  subject  remained  a  secret.  To  every  question  he  replied,  smilingly, 
that  he  had  promised  himself  that  no  one  must  know  before  the  comp- 
etition had  ended  just  what  he  had  attempted.  Many,  many  hours, 
week  in  and  week  out,  he  labored  away  by  the  brookside,  and  then 
many,  many  hours  he  spent  in  the  little  attic  room,  when  the  weather 
had  become  too  cold  to  remain  long  out  of  doors,  changing,  adding  to 
and  perfecting  the  work  commenced  under  the  fir  trees.  A  week  before 
the  time  limit  had  expired  his  picture  was  sent  to  the  judges. 

The  eventful  day  came  at  last,  and  Franz,  seated  with  his  parents 
in  the  vast  crowd  that  filled  the  hall  in  Mansfield,  where  the  award  was 
to  take  place,  was  a  prey  to  longings  *and  fears,  eager  hopes  and  antici- 
pated disappointment.  He  knew  the  elector  was  to  distribute  the 
prizes.  Judge  of  his  suprise,  then,  when  as  that  dignitary  at  length 
came  on  the  rostrum,  he  recognized  in  him  the  soldier-like  owner  of  the 
pocketbook.    After  a  somewhat  lengthy  speech  on  art,  and  on  the  pur- 


88  THE  CHILDRENS  FRIEND. 

poses  the  government  had  in  arranging  for  this  competition,  the  elector 
turned  to  the  more  interesting  part  of  his  duties. 

"And  now  as  to  the  result  of  the  competition,"  he  at  length  said. 
"The  first  prize  for  paintings  in  color  is  awarded  to  a  picture  called 
'The  Water  Mill.' "  And  Franz  nearly  jumped  to  his  feet  and  danced 
for  joy  as  the  gentleman  held  up  his  own  little  picture  of  the  dear,  old 
mill,  with  its  brook,  and  the  mountains  and  the  fir  trees — the  picture 
over  which  he  had  spent  so  many  hours,  and  into  which  he  had  put  so 
much  of  his  heart-longings, 

"The  committee  informs  me."  went  on  the  elector,  "that  not  only 
do  they  commend  the  workmanship  of  the  young  painter  of  this  picture, 
but  they  especially  wish  to  praise  his  judgment  in  selecting  as  his 
subject  a  real  scene — a  bit  of  common,  everyday  life  with  which  he 
was  familiar.  The  winner  of  the  prize  will  please  come  forward  for 
recognition." 

Really,  Franz  would  not  have  recognized  his  name,  as  it  was 
called  from  the  rostrum,  but,  urged  by  his  eager  parents,  he  made  his 
way  down  the  aisle.  As  he  stood  face  to  face  with  the  elector,  a  sud- 
den look  of  recognition  came  into  the  latter's  eyes.  "Why,  it  is  the  boy 
of  the  motto,  again,"  he  exclaimed,  smilingly.  "I  congratulate  yoii. 
The  black  knight's  motto  has  certainly  won  this  time." 

And  you  may  be  sure  the  joyous  lad  who  went  back  to  the  little 
cottage  by  the  brookside  that  evening  never  forgot  that  scene,  or  the 
new  and  wondrous  lesson  that  had  come  to  him.  As  he  today  toils 
away  among  the  old  masters  in  Rome,  where  he  has  been  able  to  go 
largely  through  the  friendship  of  the  elector,  morning  and  evening 
he  still  looks  upon  the  sturdy  black  knight  and  the  red  shield,  and  holds 
fast  steadfastly  to  the  maxim  of  the  Harzhergs. 


L   WINTER  HOME. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  89 

MISS  MARTHA'S  DISCOVERY. 

FAY  STUART. 

Miss  Martha  threw  some  sticks  into  the  wood  box,  then  sighed 
deeply  as  she  sank  into  the  rocking-chair. 

"I  declare,  Betty,"  she  said  to  the  sleek  cat  which  jumped  into  her 
lap,  "I  guess  Neighbor  Brown  is  right ;  I  need  a  boy  round  the  house 
to  chop  wood,  empty  ashes,  and  do  all  the  chores.  Your  mistress  is 
getting  too  old,  Betty,  to  gather  apples,  or  shovel  snowdrifts  next 
winter.  Yes,  a  boy  would  be  real  handy,  but  finding  the  right  one  is 
like  hunting  for  a  needle  in  a  hay-stack." 

Betty  purred  loudly,  showing  her  approval  as  well  as  a  cat  could. 
Miss  Martha  told  her  everything,  for  there  was  no  one  else  in  the 
lonely  house  to  whom  she  could  talk. 

Presently,  she  arose  and  went  to  the  orchard  to  sort  the  apples 
that  had  fallen  over  night. 

"O  Betty,"  she  said,  as  her  pet  rolled  lazily  in  the  grass,  "if  you 
only  were  of  some  use  besides  catching  mice  and  grass-hoppers!" 

As  she  rubbed  the  dew  from  each  rosy-cheeked  apple,  she  was 
studying  the  problem  of  finding  a  good  boy.  Finally  a  bright  thought 
came.    She  laughed  aloud,  her  eyes  twinkling  shrewdly. 

"Fll  do  it,"  she  decided,  "this  very  afternoon.  If  I  haven't  found 
a  way  to  tell  a  good  boy  from  a  rascal,  my  name  isn't  Martha  Perry !" 

After  dinner,  a  feeble  old  woman,  dressed  in  faded  gingham,  with 
a  torn  shawl  thrown  over  her  head,  and  carrying  a  basket  of  apples, 
closed  Miss  Martha's  gate  and  started  for  the  busy  city. 

"I  reckon  my  best  friends  wouldn't  know  me;  hope  they  won't," 
thought  Miss  Martha,  pulling  the  gray  shawl  closer.  She  little  re- 
sembled the  erect,  handsome  woman  in  black  silk  who  often  drove  to 
the  city  stores. 

Upon  a  side  street  she  saw  a  crowd  of  idle  boys.  In  passing,  her 
basket  fell  to  the  sidewalk,  the  red  apples  rolling  about.  Instantly, 
there  was  a  scramble,  but  the  boys  and  many  apples  disappeared  round 
the  nearest  comer. 

"So  you  fell  among  thieves !  That  is  the  worst  set  of  youngsters 
that  I  have  to  deal  with,"  said  a  good-natured  policeman  as  he  restored 
her  basket. 

Miss  Martha  hesitated;  then,  with  her  usual  determination, 
started  on. 

"I've  decided  to  find  a  boy,  and  I'll  hunt  till  dark  if  the  apples 
last,"  she  thought.  "I  might  have  known  that  that  ragged,  dirty  lot 
didn't  contain  my  boy."  ' 

On  Center  Street  stood  another  group  of  boys  with  balls  and  bats. 
Again  the  apples  tumbled  into  the  street,  as  Miss  Martha  gazed  in  dis- 
may at  the  broken  handle. 


90  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

"The  old  woman  is  furnishing  treat  1"  cried  one,  filling  his  pock- 
ets. , 

"They're  fine,  too!"  added  another. 

"Look  here,  boysl"  shouted  a  bright-eyed  little  fellow,  "that's 
mean.    Let's  help  pick  them  up." 

"Haven't  time,"  answered  one.    "Come  on,  boys." 

"Oh,  come  on,  Ernest,"  urged  his  chum,  standing  with  his  hands 
in  his  pockets,  "we  want  you  to  pitch." 

"I  thank  you,  my  boy,"  said  Miss  Martha  as  Ernest  straightened 
up  from  his  hurried  task.  "Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  carry  this  bas- 
ket home  for  a  tired  old  woman?" 

Ernest's  face  grew  sober.  The  boys  wanted  him,  and  he  so  en- 
joyed a  ball  game !    But  he  soon  decided. 

"Hurry  along,  George;  I'm  going  to  carry  the  apples,  I'd  want 
some  boy  to  help  my  mother  if  she  were  alive,  that's  sure !" 

He  trudged  cheerfully  along  beside  Miss  Martha,  thinking  her  a 
very  inquisitive  old  lady,  as  he  answered  her  questions. 

At  home  once  more,  Miss  Martha  hugged  Betty.  "I've  found  my 
boy,  pussy  cat,  and  I'm  much  mistaken  if  he  is  not  rightly  named 
Ernest.  My  sunny-faced  orphan  boy,  1  know  I  shall  love  him!"  And 
she  sang  a  gay  little  song  of  relief  as  she  made  the  tea. 

That  evening.  Ernest  met  his  friends  again. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  to  their  teasing  queries,  "I'm  here  and  I'm  in 
luck !  That  lady  lives  on  Grove  street,  as  good  as  the  country,  with 
big  lawns  and  orchards,  swings,  and  flower  gardens.  She's  one  of  the 
rich  ones,  I  guess.  And  I'm  to  live  there,  do  her  work  and  errands  and 
go  to  school  just  the.  same.  I  felt  in  the  way  in  Uncle  Ed's  big  family, 
so  this  is  a  splendid  chance.    She  gives  big  pay,  too !" 

"Well,  that  is  luck!"  cried  George;  "and  all  because  you  picked 
up  a  few  apples  and  carried  her  basket !" 


HIS    MORNING   WALK. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  91 

HER  FATHER'S  HELPER. 

BY  LELIA  MUNSELL.  ^ 

"All  I  have  to  say  is,  that  if  it's  going  to  make  a  girl  so  stuck  up 
to  go  away  to  school  that  she  can't  treat  her  old  friends  politely,  I  don't 
want  Lulu  to  go.  Helen  Sprague  was  one  of  the  sweetest,  friendliest 
girls  in  town  till  her  aunt  sent  her  to  the  university,  but  now  no  one 
is  good  enough  for  her  to  associate  with." 

"What  makes  you  think  so,  mother?"  Mr.  Roberts'  voice  was 
pacific. 

"Everything.  I  ran  into  the  house  a  little  while  this  afternoon. 
Helen  was  sitting  on  the  front  porch  with  a  book.  She  barely  spoke  to 
me,  and  though  I  stayed  an  hour  she  never  once  came  inside.  I  know 
Mrs.  Sprague  felt  badly  about  it.  She  apologized  for  her  not  coming 
in — said  she  was  working  for  the  Smith  scholarship,  whatever  that  is." 

"Perhaps  she  thought  you  came  to  visit  her  mother,  and  she 
wouldn't  intrude." 

"She  didn't  think  anything  of  the  sort.  I'm  not  the  only  one  who 
calls  her  stuck  up.  I've  heard  ever  so  many  speak  about  it.  She 
was  always  ready  to  do  anything  that  needed  to  be  done,  in  the  church, 
or  the  Sunday  School,  or  the  town,  or  anywhere,  before  she  went  away, 
but  now  she  won't  take  hold  of  a  thing.  Goodness  knows  there's  plenty 
for  a  daughter  to  do,  especially  when  she's  smart  as  Helen  is,  and  can 
do  anything  she  tries  to  do." 

"I  don't  believe  it's  because  she  is  stuck  up,  mother."  Mr.  Roberts 
seemed  bent  on  defending  Helen.  "But  you  know,  and  everybody 
knows,  that  the  girl  would  never  have  had  a  chance  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  her  Aunt  Hattie.  She's  worked  hard  and  made  up  some  extra 
work  during  the  summer.  Her  father  told  me  that  the  high  school 
course  here  did  not  admit  her  fully.    She  was  conditioned  on  a  number 

m 

of  studies  and  she's  been  making  these  up  outside  and  taking  exam- 
inations. I  understand  she's  stood  at  the  head  of  her  classes  ever  since 
she  went  there,  and  I  don't  blame  her  for  wanting  to  keep  at  the  head. 
And  she  told  me  herself  that  she  was  working  for  this  scholarship  be- 
cause it  would  give  her  a  year  or  two  of  special  work,  and  then  she 
hoped  to  get  a  good  positon  and  educate  the  younger  children.  It's 
prettv  evident  that  her  father  won't  have  anything  left  out  of  what 
the  church  pays  him  to  educate  anybody  with.  I  don't  think  Helen  is 
stuck  up,  but  she's  trying  to  make  the  most  of  her  chance." 

"Maybe.  But  it  does  seem  to  me  that  there  ought  to  be  some 
other  way  for  a  girl  as  smart  as  Helen  than  just  to  study,  study,  study 
all  the  time.  Everybody  was  so  anxious  to  have  her  come  home  the 
first  year.  They  thought  she'd  be  such  a  help  everywhere  during  the 
summer.  She'd  have  so  many  new  ways  of  doing  things.  But  she  just 
shut  herself  up  and  wouldn't  do  a  thing — never  even  had  time  to  visit 
a  little,  once  in  a  while,  with  an  old  neighbor.     It  looks  to  me  very 


92  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

much  as  though  she  thought  we  were  all  too  dull  and  ignorant  for  her 
to  waste  any  time  or  energy  on." 

Helen  Sprague  tiptoed  softly  off  the  Roberts  'front  porch  and 
went  around  to  the  back  door.  Here  she  repeated  the  knock  that  they 
had  failed  to  hear  before. 

"Father  brought  home  some  such  lovely  betries  from  the  country," 
she  said,  when  Mrs.  Roberts  came  to  the  door,  "and  mother  wanted 
you  to  have  a  dish  of  them.    No,  thank  you.    I  can't  come  in  tonight." 

She  went  slowly  home  through  the  warm  starlight.  So  Mrs.  Rob- 
erts thought  she  was  stuck  up,  and  others  did,  too.  Her  cheeks  flamed, 
and  hurt  and  angry  tears  came  to  her  eyes  as  she  recalled  the  criti- 
cisms she  had  unwittingly  overheard. 

"Fm  not  stuck  up,"  she  thought,  bitterly.  "But  I  haven't  time  to 
talk  about  preserves  and  pickles  and  the  latest  style  in  sunbonnets.  If 
it  hadn't  been  for  Aunt  Hattie,  I  would  never  have  known  anything 
else  perhaps,  but  I  am  going  to  make  the  most  of  my  chance,  and  I 
am  going  to  see  that  the  others  have  a  chance,  too.  The  people  here 
just  expect  papa  and  all  the  rest  of  the  family  to  give  up  everything- 
for  them,  without  even  a  'Thank  you.' " 

She  found  her  mother  alone  on  the  front  porch,  in  the  low  rocking 
chair  that  she  loved  to  rest  in  when  the  day's  work  was  done,  and  drop- 
ping down  beside  her,  she  leaned  her  head  against  her  knee.  Her 
first  impulse  was  to  tell  her  mother  all  about  the  conversation  she  had 
overheard.  Then  she  reflected  that  it  would  only  pain  her,  and  she 
had  enough  burdens  to  bear;  everybody  in  the  whole  village  came  to 
her  for  sympathy  and  help.  Helen  dimly  wondered  if  it  would  be  her 
lot  to  marry  a  minister.  She  hoped  not:  she  hoped  not.  People  ex- 
pected so  much  of  a  minister's  family.    It  was  unreasonable. 

They  sat  thus  for  some  minutes.  Mrs.  Sprague's  hand  was  softly 
caressing  her  daughter's  hair,  and  the  touch,  in  some  way,  seemed  to 
soothe  the  girl's  angry  resentment.  Might  it  be  possible  that  there 
was  a  justification  for  Mrs.  Roberts'  criticism,  after  all? 

At  last  Mrs.  Sprague  broke  the  silence.  "I  wish  you  had  come  in 
and  visited  with  Mrs.  Roberts  a  little  while  this  afternoon,"  she  said, 
as  though  she  read  Helen's  thoughts.  "I  appreciate  the  fact  that  you 
don't  have  very  much  time  left  for  study  after  the  work  is  done,  but  I 
think  she  was  oflFended." 

Helen  was  glad  it  was  dark,  so  that  her  mother  could  not  see  the 
flush  that  spread  slowly  over  her  face.  She  was  glad,  too,  that  she  had 
not  told  her  of  what  she  had  overheard. 

"I  suppose  it  would  have  been  better,"  she  answered  slowly.  "But, 
mamma,  if  I  visited  with  everybody  that  comes  to  see  you,  I  wouldn't 
get  any  studying  done.  If  I'm  ever  going  to  be  a  strong,  helpful 
woman,  able  to  do  a  lot  of  good  in  the  world,  I'll  have  to  develop  my 
own  powers  first.  It  just  seems  so  wonderful  to  me  that  I've  had  a 
chance  to  attend  the  university.  I  can't  thank  Aunt  Hattie  enough  for 
it,  and  I  simply  must  make  the  most  of  it.    I'm  determined  to  make  a 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  93 

chance  for  the  children,  too,  and  I  won't  be  just  a  second-class  charac- 
ter, without  any  aim  or  ambition  in  life.  Life  isn't  worth  living,  just 
to  drift  along  as  most  of  the  people  do  here,"  she  finished,  passionately. 

"Yes,  I  know,  dear.  Fm  glad  you  are  ambitious.  We  are  all  proiid 
of  you.  But  then  we  owe  something  to  the  people  we  live  among, 
especially  with  your  father's  position.  His  work  is  here,  and  it  has 
pained  me  a  little  to  see  you  so  wholly  indifferent  to  that  fact.  His 
whole  heart  is  in  his  work  and  the  people  have  a  right  to  expect  you 
and  me  to  be  his  helpers  and  to  work  with  him  and  them.  Books  are 
not  the  only  thing,  dear." 

There  was  a  little  break  in  her  voice,  and  the  next  moment  Helen's 
arms  were  around  her  neck.    "You  dear  old  mamma !"  she  cried. 

They  had  a  long  talk.  At  last  Helen  said :  "I  see  it  all  now.  And, 
mother,  let's  keep  this  little  talk  a  secret.  Don't  tell  father  anything 
about  it.  But  for  the  rest  of  the  summer  I'm  going  to  be  a  help  instead 
of  a  hindrance  to  him  in  his  work." 

"Your  muffins  are  especially  light  and  soft,  Helen,'*  said  her  father, 
the  next  morning  at  breakfast.  "I'm  glad  your  university  course  hasn't 
spoiled  you  for  a  cook." 

"I  hope  it  hasn't  spoiled  me  for  anything,  papa,"  returned  Helen. 
"It  ought  to  make  me  better  fitted  for  every  kind  of  work,  you  know." 

"I  hope  so,  daughter.  Don't  let  it  give  you  false  notions  of  life. 
Don't  let  it  make  you  dream  great  dreams  while  you  pass  by  the  daily 
duties." 

Something  gripped  Helen's  heart.  How  terribly  short-sighted  and 
selfish  she  had  been,  and  how  disappointed  everybody  must  be  in  her ! 
The  truth  was  certainly  being  brought  home  to  her  forcibly. 

But  she  laughed  brightly  as  she  passed  her  father  another  muffin. 
"You  couldn't  help  preaching  to  save  your  life,  could  you,  papa?"  she 
said.    "You  have  to  preach  even  at  the  breakfast  table." 

Her  father  joined  in  the  laugh  at  his  expense,  but  his  eyes  were 
grave.  As  he  rose  from  the  table  he  said  to  his  wife :  "Do  you  think 
vou  could  find  time  today  to  run  in  and  visit  with  old  Mrs.  Morgan  a 
little  while  ?  She  sits  in  that  chair  all  day  long,  and  time  is  very  heavy 
on  her  hands." 

"Wouldn't  I  do?"  interposed  Helen,  quickly.  "Do  you  suppose  she 
woud  care  to  have  me  read  to  her?" 

A  glad  surprise  took  the  place  of  the  serious  look  in  the  minister's 
eves.  "It  would  please  her  immensely,"  he  answered,  heartily.  "That 
is,  if  you  can  spare  the  time  from  your  studying,"  he  added,  more  hes- 
itatingly. 

"Oh,  the  studying  can  wait.  I'll  run  over  an  hour  this  morning, 
after  the  work  is  done." 

That  evening  Helen  was  helping  her  father  sort  clippings  in  his 
study  when  the  Sunday  School  superintendent  dropped  in. 

"I'm  worried  about  that  class  of  young  girls,"  he  said.    "They  have 


94  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

had  no  regular  teacher  for  some  time,  and  the  class  is  gradually  going 
to  pieces.  The  girls  need  help,  all  of  them.  If  I  could  only  find  some 
teacher  I  could  depend  upon." 

Mr.  Sprague  dropped  his  work  and  the  two  men  discussed  the 
question,  while  Helen  listened. 

"How  would  I  do?"  she  asked,  at  last. 

"You'd  be  just  the  one,"  cried  the  superintendent.  "I  could't  make 
a  teacher  to  order  to  suit  me  better.  But  I  didn't  suppose  it  would  be 
any  use  to  ask  you." 

Helen  winced.  So  Mr.  Mackay  had  the  same  opinion  of  her  that 
everybody  else  seemed  to  have.  But  she  said,  quickly :  "I'll  be  glad  to 
take  the  class  if  you  think  I'll  do." 

When  their  caller  had  gone  her  father  drew  her  to  him  as  she 
passed  his  chair.  "I  am  so  glad  you  offered  to  take  the  class,"  he  said. 
"I  was  hoping  you  would,  but  you  have  so  much  extra  studying  to  do 
that  I  don't  feel  like  asking  you  to.  I  appreciate  it  very  much,  daug"h- 
ter,  more  than  I  can  tell  you.  But  are  you  sure  that  you  can  spare 
the  time  ?" 

Helen  slipped  around  behind  his  chair  and  clapped  a  hand  over 
each  eye.  It  was  one  of  her  childhood  tricks,  but  she  had  a  definite 
purpose  in  it  this  time :  she  did  not  want  him  to  see  the  tears  that  had 
sprung  involuntarily  to  her  eyes. 

"Now,  daddy,  you  just  listen,"  she  cried,  in  a  pfetty,  imperious 
way  that  had  always  been  hers,  "I  don't  want  you  to  say  'study'  to  me 
again  this  summer.  I'm  not  going  to  dig  all  summer  long,  fen  months 
of  hard  studying  in  a  year  is  enough  for  anyone.  But  I'm  too  much  like 
my  reverend  father  to  be  content  to  idle  away  a  whole  vacation,  so 
I'm  going  to  help  you.  And  you'd  better  begin  to  rake  your  brains 
for  something  for  me  to  do,  for  the  Sunday  School  class  is  only  a  be- 
ginning." 

Her  father  took  the  hands  from  his  eyes  and  drew  her  around 
facing  him  again.  She  did  not  resist,  for  the  tears  had  been  laughed 
away  by  this  time. 

"There  will  be  no  trouble  about  finding  plenty  for  you  to  do,  if  you 
only  have  the  time  to  do  it.  I  have  missed  my  helper  in  the  last  three 
years.  But  are  you  sure  that  you  don't  need  to  study  this  summer? 
How  about  the  Smith  scholarship  you  have  been  working  for  all  these 
years  ?  You've  made  such  a  fine  record  so  far  that  I'd  hate  to  have  you 
spoil  it  now." 

"You  needn't  worry  about  that,  daddy.  I've  fully  made  up  my 
mind  that  I  need  a  vacation.  I've  kept  up  a  steady  grind  for  the  last 
three  years,  and  I  believe  I'll  do  better  viprk  next  year  if  I  take  a  little 
rest.    Don't  you»  now,  honestly?" 

"That  wasn't  telling  a  story,  was  it?"  she  asked  her  mother,  later. 
"I  really  do  think  I  need  a  change.  I'm  going  to  pack  my  books  away  in 
the  bottom  of  my  trunk,  where  I  won't  see  them  again  this  summer," 
and  she  gathered  up  an  armful  and  carried  them  to  her  room. 

"I  know  I've  been  foolish,"  she  whispered  as  she  put  them  away. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  95 


"but  they  don't  know — nobody  knows — ^how  badly  I  want  that  scholar- 
ship." 


The  summer  passed  away  so  quickly,  so  very  quickly.  Helen  could 
scarcely  realize  that  she  had  only  one  more  night  at  home.  She  was 
to  start  back  to  school  the  next  afternoon,  and  had  gone  up  to  her  room 
to  finish  packing.    She  had  been  too  busy  all  day  to  get  at  it  before. 

She  sighed  a  little  as  she  took  out  her  beloved  books.  They  had 
not  been  touched  since  she  had  put  them  in  the  bottom  of  her  trunk 
last  June. 

"I  wonder  if  it  has  been  worth  while,"  she  said  to  herself,  as  she 
folded  the  fresh'  clothes  that  she  had  ironed  that  morning,  between  the 
interruptions  of  callers. 

The  question  stuck  in  her  mind,  and  she  tried  to  work  out  the 
answer,  but  she  could  not  reduce  the  matter  to  anything  like  mathe- 
matical definiteness,  and  fell  asleep  with  it  still  unanswered. 

It  was  well  her  trunk  had  been  packed  at  night,  for  she  could 
never  have  done  it  the  next  morning.  There  were  too  many  interrup- 
tions. 

Lulu  Roberts  ran  in  several  times  to  ask  about  this  and  that.  Lulu 
was  almost  beside  herself  with  delight,  for  she  was  going  with  Helen 
that  afternoon  to  enter  her  freshman  year  at  the  university.  With 
Helen's  help  she  expected  to  be  able  to  make  up  the  studies  she  would 
be  conditioned  on,  although  her  father  had  promised  her  an  extra  year 
to  do  it  in  if  she  needed  it. 

Mrs.  Roberts  had  come  in  to  ask  a  simple  question  and  had  stopped 
to  talk  for  over  half  an  hour  about  Lulu  and  her  plans  for  her. 

"I  never  would  have  let  Lulu  go  if  it  hadn't  been  for  you,"  she  said, 
as  she  went  away.  "But  I  knew  you'd  look  after  her.  I  hope  she'll 
do  as  well  as  you  have.  I  guess  I  used  to  have  a  wrong  idea  of  what 
college  did  for  girls." 

During  the  forenoon  most  of  the  girls  in  her  Sunday  School  class 
dropped  in,  with  either  a  word  of  appreciation  or  a  little  remembrance, 
which  they  wanted  her  to  take  with  her,  and  Mr.  Mackey  himself 
stopped  on  his  way  home  at  noon.  "I  wanted  to  tell  you  good-by,"  he 
said.    "I  don't  know  how  I  am  going  to  get  along  without  you." 

Old  Mrs.  Morgan  had  sent  word  that  she  would  like  to  see  her 
before  she  left,  and  Helen  ran  over,  the  first  spare  minute  she  could 
find.  "I  wanted  to  thank  you  for  the  brightness  you  have  put  in  my 
life  this  summer,"  said  the  old  lady.  "It's  dreary  sitting  in  this  chair 
all  day  long." 

It  seemed  to  Helen  that  there  was  some  extra  demand  on  her  time 
all  morning,  but  at  last  she  had  gone  upstairs  to  make  herself  ready 
for  the  train.    Tom  followed  her  up. 

"I  wish  you  wasn't  going,"  he  said.    Us  boys  will  miss  you." 

"And  who  are  'us  boys  ?'  "  asked  Helen,  not  thinking  it  worth  while 
to  correct  his  grammar.  "You  seem  to  be  about  the  only  boy  in  the 
Sprague  family." 


96  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

"Oh,  all  us  fellows,"  answered  Tom,  "Dick,  and  Joe,  and  Frank, 
and  Harry.    They  think  you're  about  the  jolliest  girl  that  ever  was." 

When  she  went  down  all  dressed  for  her  journey,  her  mother  was 
waiting  to  bid  her  good-by.  "I  won't  go  to  the  train,"  she  said.  "I'm 
too  tired.  But  it  seems  to  me  I  have  never  enjoyed  having  you  with  me 
as  I  have  this  summer." 

Friendly  farewells  were  waved  to  her  from  doorways,  as  she  and 
father  took  their  way  to  the  depot,  or  a  cheery  wish  called  after  her  as 
they  met  some  friends  on  the  street.  At  the  station  there  was  just  time 
to  get  her  ticket  and  board  the  train.  Her  father  carried  in  her  grip, 
and  bade  her  a  hurried  good-by. 

"You've  been  a  veritable  blessing  this  summer,  daughter,"  he  said. 

Helen  waved  to  him  from  the  car  window  as-the  train  pulled  out. 
Then  she  turned  to  smile  brightly  to  Lulu,  whose  eyes  were  just  a  little 
misty  at  this  first  parting  with  home  folks. 

"It  has  been  worth  while,"  she  thought  to  herself,  as  slie  settled 
down  in  the  cushions.  "And."  she  shut  her  lips  in  a  way  she  had,  "I'll 
win  the  Smith  scholarship  yet." 


PULLING  HIS  NOSE. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  97 


A  DUSTY  SURPRISE. 

"There!"  exclaimed  mother.  "I  forgot  to  take  up  those  furnace 
ashes.    Well,  I  shall  have  to  wait  now  until  I  get  my  baking  done." 

*'I  thought  father  took  up  the  ashes,"  said  Evelyn. 

"Not  since  his  cough  has  been  so  bad.  The  dust  irritates  his 
throat,  and  I  haven't  allowed  him  to  do  it.  I  wish  you'd  run  down, 
Evelyn,  and  see  if  the  ashes  come  up  against  the  grate.  If  they  do,  you 
can  take  the  long  poker  and  push  them  away  on  each  side." 

Away  trotted  the  little  seven-year-old  down  the  cellar  stairs.  She 
tugged  at  the  lower  door  of  the  furnace,  and  finally  succeeded  in  get- 
ting it  open.  Oh,  what  a  pile  of  ashes !  She  tried  to  do  as  mother  said, 
but  there  were  so  many  ashes  that  they  fell  out  of  the  door  and  puffed 
up  into  her  face. 

"I  should  think  they  would  make  poor  father  cough,"  she  said  to 
herself. 

She  took  the  little  short-handled  shovel  that  was  in  an  empty  hod, 
and  scraped  up  the  ashes  that  she  had  scattered.  She  was  about  to  put 
them  back  into  the  furnace,  when  she  stopped.  "I  can;  I  can!"  she 
said  softly.  Then  she  put  the  empty  hod  close  beside  the  door,  and 
took  up  a  shovelful  of  ashes.  "Why,  it's  just  as  easy!"  she  whispered. 
"Course  I  can  do  it !    Won't  mother  be  surprised !" 

Soon  she  saw  a  piece  of  black,  shining  coal.  "Father  saves  such," 
she  muttered.  "I've  seen  him  take  them  out."  So  she  carefully  picked 
out  all  the  bits  of  coal  that  her  bright  eyes  could  spy,  and  put  them  in 
a  little  heap  by  themselves. 

Soon  the  hod  was  full.  How  should  she  empty  it  ?  She  couldn't 
lift  it  to  the  top  of  the  big  ash  can,  so  she  shoveled  it  out  of  the  hod  and 
into  the  can.  What  a  smudge  it  made !  "My !"  she  said,  and  coughed 
a  little  herself. 

Hod  after  hod  she  filled  and  emptied.  It  was  slow  work.  It  was 
dirty  work.  Evelyn  did  not  like  dirt ;  but  her  heart  was  full  of  glee  in 
thinking  how  pleased  mother  would  be. 

After  a  long  time,  before  the  task  was  completed,  mother  came 
down  the  cellar  stairs.  She  walked  slowly,  as  if  she  was  tired.  She 
had  been  ill,  and  was  still  weak. 

"Why,  Evelyn  Starr!  What  are  you  doing?"  she  exclaimed.  "If 
you  haven't  taken  up  all  the  ashes!  I'd  forgotten  where  you  were. 
What  made  you  do  it,  chicken  ?" 

"To  help  you,"  Evelyn  laughed.    "Aren't  you  glad,  mother  ?" 

"Glad !  I  am  so  glad  I  want  to  cry !  It  seemed  as  if  I  couldn't  do 
this,  on  top  of  the  other  work ;  but  I  knew  I  must  not  leave  it  for 
father,  the  ashes  choke  him  so  badly.  Dear  me,  seeing  it  all  done 
actually  makes  me  feel  rested !  You  are  covered  with  dust,  but  never 
mind,"  and  mother  kissed  her,  ashes  and  all. — Selected. 


98  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

ROBERT'S  GLAD  DAY. 

BY  CARLA  LANGDON. 

"Come,  Robert!  It  is  time  for  us  to  go  to  the  station  to  meet 
company/'  mother  called  to  the  small  boy  down  at  the  foot  of  the  snowy 
garden. 

Robert  looked  up  the  garden  path  that  led  straight  to  the  door 
where  mother  stood  like  a  pretty  picture  in  a  frame.  Then  he  looked 
down  at  a  half-finished  snow  man,  and  there  was  not  a  sign  of  a  smile 
on  his  usually  bright,  sunny  face. 

Generally  he  liked  to  go  out  with  his  mother.  She  had  a  lovely 
way  of  making  a  merry  trip  out  of  the  most  ordinary  walk.  Robert 
did  not  think  of  that  just  now.  He  wanted  to  stay  there  with  the 
snow  man. 

"Come,**  laughed  mother,  "we  must  hurry,  or  the  train  will  be 
in  before  we  get  there !" 

Something  ugly  and  selfish  in  Robert's  heart  said : 

"Don't  go !  Stand  still  and  look  cross,  and  maybe  she  will  let  you 
stay  here." 

Before  Robert  could  decide  to  do  that,  something  else  spoke  up 
sharply  and  quickly :  "Shame  on  you,  not  to  please  mother  by  running 
at  once  to  do  as  she  wishes!  She  does  many  good  things  and  hard 
things  for  you,  and  never  stops  to  think  that  she  would  rather  do  some- 
thing else  to  please  herself.  Run  quickly,  now,  and  smile  back  at  her. 
The  snow  man  can  wait,  but  mother  cannot." 

That  settled  it.  Robert  ran  to  his  mother  as  fast  as  he  could  go, 
smiling  all  the  way. 

"Who  is  coming,  mother  ?"  he  asked. 

"Some  one  mother  loves  dearly.  You  must  be  very  nice  indeed 
to  her,"  was  the  answer,  with  a  merry  laugh. 

ft  did  not  sound  very  jolly.  It  was  most  likely  some  strange  lady 
who  would  talk  to  mother  all  day,  so  that  she  could  not  help  with  the 
snow  man,  as  he  wanted  her  to  do.  It  was  going  to  be  a  bother ;  but 
the  something  that  had  spoken  quickly  and  sharply  insisted  that  he  smile 
back  again,  and  make  up  his  mind  to  be  as  nice  to  the  visitor  as  mother 
could  wish. 

Almost  before  he  knew  it  they  were  at  the  station,  and  the  train 
came.  The  people  were  getting  off.  Some  one  came  down  the  plat- 
form toward  mother  and  Robert,  and — 

"Why  it's  grandmother !"  cried  he  joyfully.  "You  never  told  me, 
mother!"  This  was  worth  a  dozen  snow  men,  for  grandmother  was 
the  dearest  visitor  they  ever  had. 

"Now,  aren't  you  glad  you  were  nice  about  it,  instead  of  cross 
and  ugly?"  said  the  little  voice.  Robert,  holding  fast  to  grandmoth- 
er's hand  on  one  side  and  mother's  on  the  other,  answered,  "Yes,  in- 
deed," as  he  began  his  happy,  glad  day. 


JUST  FOR  FUN. 

WHY  DID  THEY  TIE  HIM? 

Mrs.  Worth  came  over  from  Brooklyn 
with  her  precocious  nine-year-old  son  Tommy, 
and  walked  with  him  across  the  City  Hall 
Park.  Tommy  manifested  a  lively  interest  in 
the  Nathan  Hale  statue.  -He  wanted  a  good, 
long  look  at  it,  and  his  mother  humored  him. 
"Mamma,    what's    he    tied    for?"    was 

I'^jT  Tommy's    first    question    after   his    searching 

^V  examination. 

^m  "So  he  can't  get  away,"  the  proud  mother 

^m  replied. 

^B  "Is  he  alive?"  was  the  next  question. 

"No,  Tommy,  he's  made  of  bronze,  and 
there's  no  life  in  that." 
"Then  he  couldn't  get  away,  could  he,  mamma?" 
"No,  dearest." 
"Then  what  is  he  tied  for?" 

"You  see,  dear,  the  soldiers  caught  him  and  bound  him  that  way, 
and  then  they  hanged  him." 

"Did  they  kill  him,  mamma  ?" 
"Yes,  darling." 
"Then  he  is  dead,  isn't  he?" 
'Yes,  love." 
'Very  dead?" 
Tes,  pet." 
"Then  how  could  he  get  away?" 
"Um — er — why,  Tommy — " 
"Then  why  did  they  tie  him,  mamma?" 

"Only  the  roar  of  Broadway  coukl  be  heard  above  the  intensity  of 
her  silence,  and  as  she  led  the  little  fellow  along  he  echoed  over  and 
over,  "What  did  they  tie  him  for,  mamma?" — Selected. 

A  teacher  was  reading  to  the  class  about  George  Washington.  In 
the  story  it  said  that  he  had  a  friend  who  was  a  man  of  letters.  Then 
she  asked  if  anyone  knew  what  "a  man  of  letters"  meant.  No  one  knew. 
After  a  pause  of  about  a  minute,  John's  hand  went  up,  and  with  a  broad 
smile,  he  said  "It  meant  he  was  a  mail  carrier." 


«' 


ts^ 


((• 


Mother — Mercy  child,  how  do  you  get  your  hands  so  dirty? 
never  see  mine  as  dirty  as  that ! 

Child — No ;  but  I  guess  grandma  did ! 


You 


OFFICERS'  DEPARTMENT 

00 


POEM  FOR  FEBRUARY. 

BY  SUSAN  COOLIDGE. 

One  stitch  dropped,  as  the  weaver  drove 

His  nimble  shuttle  to  and  fro, 

In  and  out,  beneath,  above, 

Till  the  pattern  seemed  to  bud  and  grow 

As  if  the  fairies  had  helping  been ; 

One  small  stitch  which  could  scarce  be  seen. 

But  the  one  stitch  dropped  pulled  the  next  stitch  out. 

And  a  weak  place  grew  in  the  fabric  stout ; 

And  the  perfect  pattern  was  marred  for  aye 

By  the  one  small  stitch  that  was  dropped  that  day. 

One  small  life  in  God*s  great  plan. 

How  futile  it  seems  as  the  ages  roll, 

Do  what  it  may,  or  strive  how  it  can. 

To  alter  the  sweep  of  the  infinite  webb ! 

A  drop  in  an  ocean's  flow  and  ebb ! 

But  the  pattern  is  rent  where  the  stitch  is  lost, 

Or  marred  where  the  tangled  threads  have  crossed, 

And  each  life  that  fails  of  its  true  intent 

Mars  the  perfect  plan  that  the  Master  meant. 

SIX  WEEKS'  INSTRUCTION  FOR  PRIMARY  WORKERS. 

Arrangements  have  been  made  to  begin  the  class  for  Primary 
workers  Monday,  April  7th,  1913. 

The  course  includes  instruction  and  practical  demonstrations  in 
Lesson  Development,  Stories  and  Story-telling,  Physical  Training, 
Music,  Hand-work,  and  Domestic  Science.  While  this  class  has  been 
instituted  for  the  benefit  of  Stake  Primary  workers,  it  will  be  open 
for  any  of  the  Local  Officers  who  would  wish  to  take  the  work.  Cir- 
culars are  being  sent  to  all  the  Stake  Boards,  if  Local  Workers  desire 
to  attend  the  course  they  should  notify  their  Stake  Board,  who  will 
help  with  information  or  give  other  assistance  and  advice. 

Further  particulars  will  be  printed  next  month. 


"Each  day  is  a  crisis  in  life.  Those  who  recognize  this,  and  do 
their  utmost  even  in  a  small  duty  or  a  familiar  task,  are  living 
vigorously  and  truly — living  in  reality  and  not  in  a  dream.     To-day 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  101 

decides  to-morrow,  and  next  year,  in  many  an  unconscious  way.    Now 
is  a  word  of  power,  especially  in  spiritual  things." 


No  method  is  valuable  in  teaching  unless  you  are  in  close  touch 
with  the  child. — Andrew  D,  West. 


A  story  told  at  the  right  time  is  a  mirror  to  the  mind. — FroebeL 


It  is  quite  easy  to  perform  our  duties  when  they  are  pleasant  and 
imply  no  self-sacrifice;  the  test  of  principles  is  to  perform  them  with 
equal  readiness  when  they  are  onerous  and  disagreeable. 


THE  PLACE  AND  POWER  OF  MEMORIZED  SCRIPTURE. 

I  have  in  mind  today  an  old  man  something  over  seventy  years 
of  age  who  has  grown  partially  blind.  He  is  one  of  those  rare,  sweet 
souls  whom  to  meet  is  always  to  receive  a  benediction.  One  never 
leaves  him  without  new  inspiration  to  do  better  and  to  be  better.  Now 
and  then  I  meet  him  on  the  street  in  the  great  city  where  I  live,  and 
he  takes  hold  of  my  arm  as  we  walk  together,  he  chatting  gaily  of 
things  that  make  for  the  best  life.  He  is  always  quoting  the  Scrip- 
tures. He  does  it  so  naturally,  so  sweetly,  that  one  is  led  to  feel  that 
he  lives  by  the  things  he  has  hidden  in  his  heart.  On  one  occasion  I 
said  to  him :  "I  am  amazed  at  your  memory,  and  the  things  you  have 
stored  away  in  your  heart.  How  did  you  come  to  do  it?"  His  reply 
was  simple,  quiet,  yet  charged  with  a  certain  intensity  of  feeling,  for 
any  reference  to  his  approaching  blindness  is  a  delicate  matter :  "When 
I  was  quite  a  young  man  I  carefully  thought  over  the  days  that  were 
passing,  and  I  reasoned  that  the  time  might  come  when  my  eyesight 
would  not  be  as  strong  as  it  was  then.  So  I  began  to  memorize  things ; 
charged  my  mind  with  the  best  selections  from  books,  withal  taking 
care  to  learn  a  great  deal  of  Scripture.  My  fund  grew  very  large. 
The  days  and  years  passed,  and  I  am  an  old  man  now ;  my  eyesight  is 
failing" — he  said  it  softly — "and  you  cannot  realize  what  comfort  it 
is  to  me  to  recall  the  preci.ous  things  that  lie  in  my  heart;  I  repeat 
them  over  and  over  again,  and  life  is  made  new  and  fresh  by  reason 
of  them."  The  place  of  the  memorized  Scripture  was  in  the  days  of 
his  young  manhood;  the  power  of  it  was  evident  in  the  years  of  his 
later  manhood,  even  down  to  old  age. 

ANOTHER  OLD  MAN. 

I  have  in  mind  another  old  man,  who  lived  far  back  in  the  years, 
several  thousands  ago,  and  more.  He  was  about  to  leave  his  people. 
His  parting  message  is  one  of  the  choice  things  in  literature.    As  he 


102  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

came  to  consider  the  law  of  God  (and  there  wasn't  so  very  much  of 
it  written  then)  he  urged  its  study  upon  the  people,  especially  caution- 
ing them  to  diligently  teach  it  unto  their  children.  He  said:  "And 
these  words,  which  I  command  thee  this  day,  shall  be  in  thine  heart: 
and  thou  shalt  teach  them  diligently  unto  thy  children,  and  shalt  talk 
of  them  when  thou  sittest  in  thine  house,  and  when  thou  walkest  by 
the  way,  and  when  thou  liest  down,  and  when  thou  risest  up.  And 
thou  shalt  bind  them  for  a  sign  upon  thine  hand,  and  they  shall  be  as 
frontlets  between  thine  eyes.  And  thou  shalt  write  them  upon  the 
posts  of  thy  house,  and  on  thy  gates''  (Deut.  6:6-9).  So  spake  Moses, 
the  man  of  God,  to  the  people  of  the  long  ago.  The  place  of  the  ' 
memorized  Scripture  was  in  the  childhood  of  the  nation,  and  the  power 
'of  it  was  to  issue  in  a  people  thoroughly  grounded  in  the  oracles  of 
God,  made  strong  and  virile  and  peculiar,  because  the  Word  of  God 
was  hidden  in  their  hearts. 

A  little  while  after,  when  giving  his,  parting  message  to  his  suc- 
cessor, he  again  urged  the  worth  of  constant  attention  upon  the  book 
of  the  law.  The  people  should  teach  it  unto  their  children ;  they  should 
write  it  upon  the  door-posts  of  their  houses;  they  should  bind  it  as 
frontlets  to  their  eyes.  Joshua,  the  leader  into  the  new  land,  was  him- 
self to  be  a  constant  student  of  the  self-same  law.  This  book  of  the 
law  shall  not  depart  out  of  thy  mouth ;  but  thou  shalt  meditate  therein 
day  and  night,  that  thou  mayest  observe  to  do  according  to  all  that  is 
written  therein :  for  then  thou  shalt  make  thy  way  prosperous,  and  then 
thou  shalt  .have  good  success"  (Josh.  1.  8).  The  place  of  the  mem- 
orized Scripture  was  to  be  in  his  quiet  moments  by  day  and  night ;  and 
the  power  of  it  was  to  be  manifested  in  the  way  he  passed  over — a 
prosperous  way,  one  bright  with  the  promise  of  good  successs. 

A  THIRD  OLD   MAN. 

I  have  in  mind,  also,  another  man ;  he  must  have  been  old  when  he 
summed  up  that  which  I  am  about  to  repeat  to  you.  He  had  lived  into 
the  years  of  calm  contemplation,  of  wide  experience.  He  was  describ- 
ing the  steadfast  man — the  fruitful  man ;  in  a  negative  and  a  positive 
way  he  drew  his  outline.  And  this  was  the  way  he  did  it :  "Blessed  is 
the  man  that  walketh  not  in  the  counsel  of  the  ungodly,  nor  standeth 
in  the  way  of  sinners,  nor  sitteth  in  the  seat  of  the  scornful.  But  his 
delight  is  in  the  law  of  the  Lord ;  and  in  his  law  doth  he  meditate  day 
and  night.  And  he  shall  be  like  a  tree  planted  by  the 'rivers  of  water, 
that  bringeth  forth  his  fruit  in  his  season ;  his  leaf  also  shall  not  wither ; 
and  whatsoever  he  doeth  shall  prosper"  (Psa.  1.  1-3).  The  place  of 
the  Scripture  was  in  the  man's  heart,  inwrought  by  daily  and  nightly 
meditation ;  the  power  of  it  was  in  evil  withstood,  a  fruitful  life,  a  fade- 
less tree,  a  prosperous  way. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  103 

JESUS. 

Long,long  afterward,  a  Young  Man  found  himself  driven  resistless- 
ly  into  a  strange,  wild,  weird  wilderness.  There  was  a  terrific  battle  to  be 
fought.  He  was  to  lock  in  with  the  forces  of  evil,  and  he  was  to  over- 
come! It  is  significant  to  note  the  weapon  of  his  warfare.  His  was 
not  a  conflict  with  flesh  and  blood ;  there  were  principalities  and  powers 
against  him ;  the  prince  of  the  power  of  darkness  closed  in  with  him  in 
mighty  conflict.  Again  and  again  did  he  reply  to  his  enemy  and  his 
weapon  was  the  Word  of  God,  which  he  had  been  taught  in  common 
with  all  Hebrew  children  at  his  mother's  knee.  And  Satan  was  van- 
quished. Just  a  few  years  after  that  he  was  at  the  end  of  his  short,  but 
O,  such  a  stormy  life.  Lifted  on  a  painful  cross,  his  whole  being  quiv- 
ering with  pain,  the  things  that  rose  to  his  lips  were  quotations  from 
the  Old  Book ;  the  last  cry  was  the  heart-leap  of  an  old  pslamist,  "Into 
thy  hands  I  commend  my  spirit."  So  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  Son  of  man 
and  Son  of  God,  God  the  Father  unveiled,  was  himself  the  greatest 
example  of  the  place  and  power  of  memorized  Scripture. 

PAUL. 

Looking  back  over  a  life  full  of  what  the  world  now  calls  the 
strenuous,  a  great  soul  was  commending  his  friends  to  the  best  things 
as  he  went  from  them,  never  to  look  into  their  faces  again.  And  his 
commendation  was  this :  "And  now,  brethren,  I  commend  you  to  God, 
and  to  the  word  of  his  grace,  which  is  able  to  build  you  up,  and  to  give 
you  an  inheritance  among  all  them  which  are  sanctified"  (Acts  20.  32). 
The  place  and  power  of  the  inwrought  Scripture  was  the  consuming 
thought  of  Paul's  farewell  message  to  his  Ephesian  friends. 

PETER. 

Peter,  in  his  last  word,  rises  to  a  great  thought  when  he  reminds 
his  friends  that  God  has  given  "exceeding  great  and  precious  promises : 
that  by  these  ye  might  be  partakers  of  the  divine  nature."  So  the  place 
and  power  of  the  memorized  Scripture  was  the  inner  life  transformed 
into  the  divine  life ! 

THE  USE  OF   MEMORIZED  SCRIPTURE. 

Here  is  the  plea  for  memorizing  Scripture  in  order  to  the  develop- 
ment of  life  itself.  A  Southern  woman  was  telling  me  of  her  experi- 
ence with  children.  She  said  she  thought  it  strange  that  so  little  atten- 
tion was  given  to  the  Proverbs  in  the  teaching  of  children  ;  so  she  began 
to  give  them  a  verse  a  week.  They  were  to  memorize  it,  and  give  their 
experiences  at  the  end  of  the.  week.  One  lad,  of  an  unusually  quick 
temper,  who  had  an  unfortunate  habit  of  screaming  when  things  did 
not  go  to  suit  him,  had  quite  a  time  with  one  of  the  verses.    It  was  ont 


104  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

only  memorized,  but  carefully  explained  to  him.  When  he  made  his 
report,  he  said:  "We  were  having  quite  a  time  at  our  house;  some 
things  I  didn't  like ;  I  got  so  mad  I  wanted  to  scream  and  kick.  But  I 
ran  into  the  hallway  to  get  away  for  a  moment,  for  I  remembered  the 
verse  of  the  week,  and  I  said,  'He  that  ruleth  his  own  spirit  is  greater 
than  he  that  taketh  a  city,'  and  I  got  quiet,  and  went  back  to  play 
again."  Here  also  is  the  plea  for  memorized  Scripture  in  order  to  do 
effective  service  in  the  kingdom.  It  goes  without  sa)ang  that  ignorance 
of  the  Scripture  is  an  indication  of  the  lack  of  a  full-rounded  training 
in  the  intellectual  life.  A  year  or  two  before  his  death  Charles  A. 
Dana,  of  the  New  York  Sun,  delivered  an  address  to  the  newspaper 
men  of  Chicago.  Among  the  many  things  he  said  was  a  beautiful  ref- 
erence to  the  Bible.  He  intimated  that  a  journalist's  education  was  not 
complete  unless  he  was  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  Scriptures.  From 
the  standpoint  of  simple  journalistic  equipment  he  urged  the  place  and 
power  of  the  Scriptures  in  the  life  of  a  man  who  served  his  fellow-men 
through  the  daily  newspaper.  H  this  be  so,  and  it  is,  we  should  not 
need  much  argument  to  show  the  power  of  the  book  in  the  develop- 
ment of  life  itself  into  the  best  things,  like  unto  the  glorious  life  of  Him 
who  is  Lord  of  us  all.  It  is  ignorance  of  the  Scriptures  that  makes  a 
weak  spiritual  life!  it  is  ignorance  of  the  scriptures  that  leads  one  into 
doubt  and  despair,  and  sometimes  into  sin. 

I  have  every  respect  for  the  worker  who  carries  his  Bible  with  him ; 
he  ought  to  have  it  with  him.  But  there  are  many  times  when  the  red 
letter  testament  is  not  the  beautifully  printed  book  in  red  and  black 
print  on  a  white  page,  but  the  red  letter  Testament  of  the  heart,  and 
the  words  fall  from  the  lips  of  the  worker  or  the  teacher  without  regard 
to  the  book  itself,  the  disciple  being  the  printed  page,  printed  with  the 
blood-red  ink  of  personal  knowledge  and  ripe  experience. 

We  should  give  directions  to  this  matter  of  memorizing  Scripture, 
so  that  it  shall  minister  to  the  highest  possible  character.  The  mem- 
orized Scripture  should  be  mgjnly  for  the  feeding  of  the  spiritual  life, 
for  direction  in  daily  living,  for  use  in  contact  with  the  world  about 
us.  It  goes  without  saying  that  we  should  always  be  able  to  give  to 
every  man  a  reason  for  the  hope  that  is  in  us,  and  that  reason  ought 
to  be  a  scriptural  reason. 

Then,  let  us  go  on  to  perfection.  Day  after  day,  week  in  and  out, 
let  there  be  diligent  attention  to  this  matter  of  memorizing  the  Word  of 
God.  Out  from  the  book  let  us  gather  the  great  and  precious  truths, 
slowly  working  them  into  the  warp  and  woof  of  life.  Take  a  verse  a 
day,  if  we  can  stand  it.  At  least,  let  there  be  a  verse  a  week,  memor- 
ized, talked  about,  prayed  over,  inwrought,  until  it  becomes  part  of 
ourselves.  Let  us  seek  to  restore  that  beautiful  old-time  memorial  of 
the  day  when  the  father  was  high  priest  in  his  own  household;  when 
he  gathered  the  family  together  and  read  a  few  words,  sang  a  hymn, 
and  offered  prayer.  Let  them  go  over  their  verses  together  as  they  sit 
at  the  table.    From  the  least  to  the  greatest,  let  each  have  his  Scripture. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  105 

It  should  come  to  pass  that  at  no  distant  day  we  shall  have  new  homes, 
new  schools,  a  new  society.  We  should  be  like  unto  the  Puritans  of 
whom  Macaulay  wrote,  when  he  said  they  were  migthily  read  in  the 
oracles  of  God.  And  we  should  join  in  the  glad  cry  of  him  who  sang: 
"0  how  love  I  thy  law !  it  is  my  meditation  all  the  day."  "Thy  word 
have  I  hid  in  mine  heart,  that  I  might  not  sin  against  thee." — W,  H, 
Geistweit. 


TALKING  DOES  NOT  HELP  TROUBLE. 

"Two  small  boys  were  going  home  together  with  purchases  from  a 
grocery.  The  elder  was  evidently  a  sufferer  from  some  accident  that 
had  rendered  his  right  arm  useless,  for  it  was  carefully  bandaged  and 
supported  in  a  sling,  but  his  left  hand  was  sturdily  carrying  a  basket 
well  filled  with  packages.  Beside  him  trudged  his  brother  carrying  a 
sack  apparently  filled  with  apples  or  potatoes,  which  he  occasionally 
shifted  from  hand  to  hand  and  concerning  which  he  fretted  and  com- 
plained incessantly. 

"  *I  wish  this  old  load  was  home ;  it  hurts  my  hand  to  grip  the  bag 
so  tight.  My,  but  these  things  are  heavy !  It's  no  fun  carrying  them 
so  far.  Wait  a  minute ;  I  can't  go  so  fast  when  I  have  all  these  things 
to  carry,'  ran  the  complaining  voice. 

"  'Well,  I'd  take  some  of  them  if  I  could,  but  I  can't,'  said  the  elder, 
roused  to  reply  at  last. 

"  'Nobody  said  you  could,'  fretted  the  small  boy  again.  'Course 
I've  got  to  carry  them  myself,  but  I'm  just  saying  they're  awful  heavy.' 

"  'Well,  what's  the  use  of  talking  about  it  all  the  time,  then  ?'  de- 
manded the  other  impatiently.  'If  you've  got  to  carry  them  yourself 
why  don't  you  do  it  the  best  way  you  can,  and  stop  fussing  about  it  ?' 

"The  tone  was  not  particularly  sympathetic,  but  the  question  was  a 
▼cry  sensible  one.  There  are  many  people  with  loads  to  carry — loads 
Aat  no  one  can  help  them  carry — who  fall  into  the  useless  and  wearying 
habit  of  continually  talking  of  their  worries  and  burdens.  They  run 
here  and  there  with  the  tale  of  their  troubles;  insist  on  sharing  the 
knowledge  of  them  with  all  their  friends  and  acquaintances,  who  can 
neither  change  nor  help  the  existing  conditions,  and  consume  their  own 
time  and  that  of  others  in  their  useless  recitals.  A  sorrow  or  difficulty 
confided  to  some  trusted  friend  whose  strength  and  experience  may  be 
helpful,  or  advice  sincerely  asked  of  those  whom  we  feel  to  be  wiser 
than  ourselves,  is  something  quite  apart  from  this  habit  of  which  we  are 
speaking — ^the  habit  of  talking  over, -and  forcing  upon  others  all  the 
hardships  and  petty  difficulties  we  encounter." 


LESSON  DEPARTMENT 


Sudject  for  tbe  Aontb:   Tlome  power* 

LESSON  NINE. 

The  Lesson  Hour. 

SUGGESTIONS  FOR  ALL  THE  TEACHERS. 

The  memory  work  given  is  very  important  and  should  be  used  at 
each  session  of  the  Primary.  Gems,  poems  and  stories  should  be  recited 
by  the  children  during  the  Busy  Hour,  the  Story  Hour  and  the  Social 
Hour.  If  the  memory  work  has  the  thought  desired  it  will  leave  its 
own  impression  on  the  mind.  The  Lesson  Hour  is  the  opportunity  for 
explanation  and  should  be  used  to  emphasize  the  truth  intended  to  be 
taught  and  to  arouse  impulses  toward  better  living  and  doing.  Be 
careful  not  to  preach. 

Grood  examples,  pictures,  songs,  stories,  etc.,  are  the  most  interest- 
ing and  will  produce  the  best  results. 

Once  more,  thorough  preparation  is  urged.  Be  ready.  Have  your 
program  so  well  in  mind  that  you  are  free  from  the  nervousness  and 
dread  which  always  accompany  the  one  that  is  unprepared.  If  you 
know  your  lesson  you  have  yourself  under  control  and  will  be  ready 
to  control  your  class.  The  preparation  meeting  with  the  home  prepara- 
tion will  bring  results  that  will  more  than  repay  for  the  labor  done. 
This  preparation  is  equally  important  for  all  four  meetings. 

Read  the  suggestions  given  for  each  grade,  the  broader  the  point 
of  view  the  more  we  see  and  understand. 

If  the  lessons  are  long  enough  without  the  stories  suggested  for 
illustration  they  may  be  used  for  the  Story  Hour. 

FIRST  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text.  Character  by  Smiles,  chapter  2.  Bible:  Weeds  Life  of 
Christ,  chapter  7. 

» 

Other  Materials. 
Memory  Gem. 
Games. 
Songs. 
Pictures. 
Rest  Exercises. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  107 

Aim. 

In  helping  others  we  help  ourselves. 

Illustration. 

Helping  His  Mother. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  Use  memory  gem  from  last  month 
and  let  the  children  relate  it  to  the  stories  which  were  used,  the  busy 
work  of  dishwashing  and  the  kindness  and  politeness  shown  in  the 
social.  The  teacher  will  have  had  opportunity  to  observe  if  any  of  the 
lessons  taught  are  bearing  fruit  in  the  actions  of  the  children. 

Make  a  list  of  the  every  day  tasks  in  a  home  and  let  the  children 
tell  how  they  are  done  and  who  does  them.  Help  them  to  understand 
how  uncomfortable  things  would  be  if  these  tasks  were  left  undone.  Let 
the  children  tell  which  of  the  tasks  they  are  big  enough  to  do.  Find 
out  if  they  do  any  of  them  and  encourage  them  to  feel  as  well  as  know 
the  memory  gem,  which  should  be  repeated  as  many  times  as  possible 
during  the  development  of  the  lesson. 

Tell  what  you  can  of  the  early  home  of  Jesus.  Remember  that 
there  is  very  little  known  about  the  childhood  of  the  Savior  and  what 
Weed  says  is  what  might  be  said  of  any  child  of  the  same  time.  But 
we  know  He  had  a  good  mother  and  that  He  must  have  been  a  good 
son.  Emphasize  these  points  and  how  kind  mother  and  kind  son  could 
have  said  to  each  other.  (Use  Grem.)  Be  sure  to  use  songs,  rest  exer- 
cises and  games  as  suggested  in  last  year's  outlines,  being  sure  to  pre- 
serve the  general  thought  of  the  lesson. 

Memory  Gem. 

ril  help  you  and  you  help  me, 

And  then  what  a  happy  home  there'll  be. 

— Adapted. 
Illustration. 

.      HELPING  HIS  MOTHER. 

"I  don't  like  to  bring  in  chips  all  the  time,"  grumbled  little  John  to 
himself. 

"All  right,  John,"  said  his  mother,  who  had  overheard  him ;  "you 
needn't  bring  in  any  more  chips  until  you  are  willing  to." 

"Really,  mamma?"  cried  little  John. 

"Yes,"  answered  his  mother ;  "for  I  don't  like  to  have  boys  about 
that  gnimble  and  hate  to  work." 

The  barn  was  finished  long  before  supper-time,  for  no  one  bothered 
little  John  that  day.  His  mother  picked  up  the  chips  herself,  and  did 
not  even  call  him  to  run  on  errands. 

But  when  the  barn  was  finished,  little  John  was  tired  of  it,  and  ran 
into  the  house,  and  asked  his  mother  to  tell  him  a  story. 


108  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

"I  can't  tell  you  a  story,"  answered  his  mother;  "for  I  am  busy. 
Run  away  now,  and  play.*' 

But  John  was  tired  of  playing,  so  he  wandered  out  into  the  kitchen, 
and  there  he  smelled  the  Saturday's  baking. 

He  ran  and  looked  on  a  low  shelf  in  the  pantry  where  his  mother 
always  put  a  little  pie  for  him,  but  the  shelf  was  bare. 

"Mamma,**  cried  John,  bursting  into  the  sitting-room,  where  his 
mother  sat  sewing,  "where's  my  little  pie?" 

"What  pie  ?"  questioned  his  mother,  who  seemed  surprised. 

"Why  you  always  bake  me  a  little  pie  or  turnover  when  you  bake ; 
that's  the  one  I  mean." 

"I  used  to,"  said  his  mother ;  "but  I  was  too  busy  this  morning  to 
bother  with  little  pies." 

John  went  soberly  outdoors,  and  sat  down  in  the  shade  of  his  new 
barn  to  think ;  if  he  had  helped  his  mother,  wouldn't  she  have  had  time 
to  tell  the  story,  and  if  he  had  brought  in  the  chips  when  she  was  baking 
wouldn't  she  have  found  time  to  bake  him  a  little  pie? 

"I  ought  to  help  my  mother  whether  she  bakes  me  pies  or  not," 
said  little  John  solemnly  to  himself.  "It  doesn't  take  but  a  minute  or 
two  to  pick  up  a  pan  of  chips ;  and  it's  fun  to  run  on  errands." 

"Mamma,"  he  said,  half  an  hour  later,  "I've  brought  in  a  boxful 
of  wood  and  two  pans  of  chips.  I  like  to  bring  in  chips  'cause  it  helps 
you.  And  I  like  to  run  on  errands.  I'm  willing  to  help  after  this 
whether  you  bake  little  pies  for  me,  or  not." 

"All  right,"  laughed  his  mother,  who  saw  that  John  had  learned 
his  lesson ;  "the  next  time  I  bake  maybe  there'll  be  a  little  pie  for  you." 
— Selected. 

POPULAR  TOM. 

I  read  of  a  little  boy — ^Tom — who  would  give  his  last  marble ;  run 
on  errands  all  day  and  never  grumble ;  give  the  best  place  to  somebody 
else,  no  matter  who,  and  feel  so  glad  in  seeing  other  folks  have  a  good 
time  that  he  forgot  himself.  Everybody  liked  Tom.  Grandmother 
smiled  all  over  when  she  saw  him  coming.  Aunt  Laura,  who  was  a 
busy  woman,  smiled  at  him,  and  said,  "Just  in  time,  Tom ;  run  and — " 
When  Tom  went  to  spend  the  day  with  his  grandmother  or  Aunt  Laura, 
the  folks  at  home  would  miss  him.  One  would  say:  "Where  is  Tom? 
I  wish  he  were  at  home."  And  another,  "If  Tom  were  only  here!" 
Tom  was  one  of  the  unselfish  helpers.  Are  there  any  Toms  living  at 
your  house?  Would  you  be  missed  when  away  from  home,  as  Tom 
was? — Olive  Plants. 

HOW  MANY  THINGS.^ 

"Seems  to  me  I'm  always  doing  things  for  mother,"  grumbled  Jack, 
when  she  asked  him  to  water  the  plants.     "Lots  of  things  this  morning." 
"How  many  things?"  asked  Aunt  Amy. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  109 

"Oh,  I  went  on  an  errand  and  I  fed  the  chickens— always  so  much 
to  do  on  Saturday.     And  now  those  plants." 

"How  many  things  has  mother  done  for  you  today?  Suppose  you 
make  the  list." 

"I  will,"  said  Jack.     He  brought  it  later,  saying: 
"I  really  didn't  think  it  would  count  up  so,  Aunt  Amy."     It  read : 
"Found  my  collar.     Sewed  on  a  button.     Got  me  a  shoestring. 
Wrote  a  note  to  ask  if  Tom  could  come  over.     Got  a  sliver  out  of  my 
finger.     Got  a  knot  out  of  my  kite  string.     Found  my  fishing  tackle. 
Made  me  some  glue.     Showed  me  about  an  example.     Fixed  my  hat 
band.    Found  some  nails  for  my  shelf  and  helped  fix  it — " 
"I  lost  count  there,"  said  Jack. — Our  Little  Ones. 

■ 

SECOND  GRADE. 

Materials  far  the  Lesson. 

Text,     Character  by  Smiles,  chapter  2.     Bible:    Exodus  2:1-10. 

Other  Materials. 
Memory  Gem. 
Poem. 
Games. 
Songs. 
Pictures. 

Aim. 

Willingness  to  be  helpful  and  kind  in  the  home  brings  joy  to 
everyone. 

Illiistration. 

"  'A  Lend-a-Hand'  Girl."  The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  9;  page 
360;  or,  Miss  Martha's  Discovery,  in  this  issue. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  Briefly  review  the  main  points  cov- 
ered in  last  month's  work.  Have  the  memory  gem  recited  by  members 
of  the  class  and  in  concert.  Let  the  review  lead  up  to  the  development 
of  the  new  lesson.  Read  carefully  and  thoughtfully  chapter  two  on 
Home  Power.  Take  up  that  phase  which  deals  with  the  child's  share 
in  making  the  home  orderly  and  happy,  and  at  the  same  time  is  the 
means  of  developing  him  or  her  into  a  good  home-maker  for  the  future. 

Pictures  might  be  helpful  in  the  introduction  of  this  lesson.  Cut 
from  magazines  or  other  books  pictures  which  show  children  helping  in 
the  home.  Mount  them  on  colored  cardboards  and  they  will  be  more 
attractive.  Children's  story  books  may  be  used.  Show  the  pictures  and 
lead  the  children  to  tell  the  stories  the  pictures  tell.  In  this  way  lead 
them  to  suggest  what  they  can  do  to  help  in  the  home.  How  do  you 
feel  after  helping  father,  mother,  sister  or  brother  ?     How  do  those  you 


no  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

have  helped  feel  ?  What  kind  of  a  home  do  we  help  to  make  when  we 
are  helpful  and  cheerful  ?  Use  the  memory  gem,  poem,  songs  and  rest 
exercises  where  they  best  fit  in  in  the  development  of  the  lesson. 

Prepare  the  Bible  story  as  suggested  in  last  year's  convention  work. 
Keep  the  suggested  aim  in  mind  and  show  how  Miriam  helped  her 
mother  and  saved  her  brother.  If  the  story  suggested  cannot  be  had 
another  may  be  supplied. 

For  a  rest  exercise  the  children  could  go  through  the  home  activi- 
ties to  the  tune  of  "Did  You  Ever  See  a  Lassie,"  or  "Here  We  Go 
Round  the  Mulberry  Bush,"  the  latter  to  be  found  in  Old  and  New 
Singing  Games. 

Memory  Gem. 

Do  something  for  each  other, 

Though  small  the  help  may  be ; 
There's  comfort  in  these  little  things, 

Far  more  than  others  see. 


Poem. 


IF !      IF ! 

If  every  boy  and  every  girl, 

Arising  with  the  sun, 
Should  plan  this  day  to  do  alone 

The  good  deeds  to  be  done ; 

Should  scatter  smiles  and  kindly  words. 

Strong,  helpful  hands  should  lend; 
And  to  each  other's  wants  and  cries 
•   Attentive  ears  should  bend; 

How  many  homes  would  sunny  be 

Which  now  are  filled  with  care! 
And  joyous,  smiling  faces,  too. 

Would  greet  us  everywhere. 

— Golden  Da3rs. 


THIRD  GRADE. 
Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text.    Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  2. 
Bible:    I  Samuel  16:1-12. 

Other  Materials. 
Memory  Gem. 
Poem. 
Songs. 
Pictures. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  Ill 

Aim. 

Willing  helpfulness  in  the  home  brings  peace  and  joy  to  everyone. 

Illustration. 

"Dorothy's  Welcome  Home."  The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  9, 
page  37. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  Let  the  review  be  brief,  covering 
the  points  you  emphasized  in  last  month's  work. 

A  review  should  always  revive  in  the  child's  mind  the  lesson  taught, 
thereby  impressing  the  truths  and  should  also  prepare  the  mind  for  the 
new  lesson. 

After  a  careful  study  of  chapter  two  in  Character  by  Smiles  you 
will  be  inspired  to  develop  a  splendid  lesson  with  the  children.  While 
the  chapter  deals  more  extensively  with  the  influence  the  mother  has 
in  the  home,  still  we  know  that  every  member  of  the  family  has  a  share 
in  the  making  of  a  happy  well  ordered  home.  This  phase  can  be  taken 
up  with  profit.  Help  the  children  to  feel  that  they  have  a  part  to  do 
and  that  they  should  appreciate  what  home  and  parents  do  for  them. 
The  new  lesson  may  be  introduced  either  by  pictures  or  by  questions 
which  direct  the  minds  of  the  children  to  the  home.  Have  a  heart  to 
heart  talk  with  them  about  their  share  in  the  home-making  and  help 
them  to  feel  the  joy  they  g^ve  and  get,  too,  in  doing  their  duty. 

The  memory  gem  and  poem  should  be  given  where  they  best  fit  in 
the  lesson.  ^ 

Plan  the  story  of  David  as  suggested  in  last  year's  work.  Keep 
the  suggested  aim  in  mind  and  have  the  children  see  that  children  of 
the  Bible  were  helpful  to  their  parents. 

Memory  Gem. 

When  the  beautiful  stars  peep  out  one  by  one. 

And  I  look  far  up  and  away, 
•  How  sweet  to  be  able  to  whisper  to  God 
"I  have  made  someone  happy  today." 


Poem.    "A  Home  Picture." 
Oh,  the  happy  little  home  when  the  twilight  fell. 
And  busy  little  mother  got  her  children  about ; 
And  Johnny  fetched  the  water,  and  Tommy  brought  the  wood. 
And  Billy-boy  tied  both  his  shoes,  as  every  laddie  should. 
And  Dannie  rocked  the  cradle  with  a  clatter  and  a  song, 
To  make  the  little  sister  grow  so  pretty  and  so  strong. 

Oh,  the  happy  little  home  when  the  twilight  fell. 

And  all  along  the  meadow  rang  the  old  cow-bell. 

With  a  tinkle  that  is  music  through  the  rushing  of  the  years, 

And  I  see  the  little  mother  in  the  tremble  of  the  tears, 

And  I  hear  her  happy  laughter  as  she  cries,  "The  boys  have  come, 

And  we  know  she's  getting  supper  in  the  happy  little  home. 


»> 


112  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Oh,  the  sweet  peas  and  the  morning-glories  climbing  round  the  door, 
And  the  tender  vine  of  shadow  with  its  length  across  the  floor, 
Oh,  the  "pinies"  and  the  roses,  and  the  quiver  of  the  grass 
And  the  cheery  call  of  friendship  from  the  neighbors  as  they  pass, 
Oh,  the  scuffle  and  the  shouting,  and  the  little  mother's  laugh 
As  a  rabbit  starts  up  somewhere,  and  her  "great  helps"  scamper  off. 

— Selected. 

FOURTH  GRADE. 
* 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text,    Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  2. 
The  Bible:  Proverbs,  chapter  31. 

Other  Materials. 
Questions. 
Memory  Gem. 
Poem. 
Quotations. 
Pictures. 

Incident  from  life  of  President  Joseph  F.  Smith.    The  Chil- 
dren's Friend,  vol.  2,  page  453. 

Aim. 

Helping  to  make  a  happy  home  adds  to  the  pleasures  of  home. 

• 
Illustration. 

Tommy's  Share.    The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  5,  page  442. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  Review  the  work  done  in  Primary 
during  the  month  preceding.  Use  the  memory  gems,  poems,  etc.,  and 
let  the  children  tell  if  they  have  thought  about  them,  when,  and  how. 
If  you  notice  in  the  actions  of  the  children  any  efforts  to  improve  be  sure 
to  notice  and  give  praise  where  it  is  deserved. 

Appoint  some  of  the  class  to  read  what  Solomon  says  about  a  vir- 
tuous woman,  so  that  the  reading  may  be  well  done.  After  the  reading, 
go  over  carefully  each  one  of  the  good  woman's  activities  and  help  the 
class  to  understand  their  meaning  and  apply  them  to  the  things  which 
women  need  to  do  in  our  day.  Also  under  same  conditions  use  inci- 
dent from  life  of  President  Joseph  F.  Smith. 

After  a  careful  reading  of  Smiles'  chapter  on  Home  Power  you 
will  have  a  number  of  good  suggestions  to  give  that  should  help  the 
children  to  know  that  a  successful  home  is  one  where  every  member 
does  willingly  and  cheerfully  some  part  of  its  work.  Begin  the  lesson 
with  the  questions  which  should  review  previous  work  and  prepare  the 
mind  for  the  new  lesson.  In  between  questions  the  teacher  may  find 
her  best  opportunity  to  give  the  good  thoughts  for  the  lesson  and  not 
have  any  definite  talk,  just  helping  along  a  general  discussion  of  the 
subject,  which  is  perhaps  the  most  eflfective  and  enjoyable  way  to  dis- 
cover new  truths  or  become  better  acquainted  with  old  ones. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  113 

Questions.  What  was  the  story  about  George  Washington  when 
he  was  ready  to  leave  his  home  and  mother? 

What  was  the  memory  gem  about  courage  and  deeds  ? 

What  do  we  know  about  Greorge  Washington's  mother?  (If  pos- 
sible use  pictures.) 

^What  kind  of  a  home  would  a  woman  like  Mrs.  Washington  make  ? 

Who  is  the  President  of  the  Church  ? 

What  do  we  know  about  his  mother?     (Use  incident  suggested.) 

King  Solomon  has  the  name  of  being  the  wisest  of  men.  What 
does  he  say  about  a  good  woman?    Proverbs  31. 


Memory  Gem. 

Whatever  you  are,  be  noble ; 

Whatever  you  do,  do  well; 
Whenever  you  speak,  speak  kindly ; 


nenever  you  speak,  speak  kmd 
Give  joy  wherever  you  dwell. 


— Selected. 

Poem.    "Children  That  Are  Wanted." 

Children  that  are  wanted  for  the  home, — 

Children  for  mother's  right  hand, 
That  fathers  and  brothers  can  trust  in. 

And  the  little  ones  understand ; 
Those  that  are  fair  on  the  hearthstone, 

And  pleasant,  when  nobody  sees ; 
Kind  and  sweet  to  their  own  folk, — 

Ready  and  anxious  to  please. 

The  children  wanted  are  wise  children. 

That  know  what  to  do  and  to  say ; 
That  drive  with  a  smile  or  a  soft  word 

The  gloom  of  the  household  away. 
The  children  wanted  are  good  children, — 

All  good  f rpm  the  heart  to  the  lips ; 
Pure,  as  the  lily  is  whjte  and  pure, 

From  its  heart  to  its  sweet  leaf-tips. 

— Adapted. 

Quotations.     Proverbs  20:11 ;  24:3-4. 

FIFTH  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text.    Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  2. 
The  Bible:   Proverbs,  chapter  31. 


114  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Other  Materials. 
Questions. 
Memory  Gem. 
Poem. 
Reading. 
Quotations, 

Aim. 

To  have  a  share  in  the  responsibility  of  making  a  happy  home  in- 
creases the  appreciation  of  home. 

Illustration. 

Dorothy's  Welcome  Home.  The  Children's  Friend,  vol,  9, 
page  37. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  Read  the  suggestions  given,  for  the 
fourth  grade  teacher,  about  questions.  All  readings,  quotations,  and 
memory  work  should  be  given  time  for  preparation,  there  is  not  much 
pleasure  in  listening  to  a  reader  who  does  not  know  the  reading. 

The  chapter  by  Smiles  about  Home  Power  may  appear,  at  first 
reading,  to  be  rather  difficult  to  apply  to  a  class  of  boys  and  girls,  but  a 
careful  consideration  of  it  will  help  to  make  clear  some  of  the  necessary 
qualifications  in  the  making  of  a  happy  home. 

"A  house  is  built  of  brick  and  stones,  of  sills  and  posts  and  piers  ; 

But  a  home  is  built  of  loving  deeds  that  stand  a  thousand  years. 
A  house,  though  but  an  humble  cot  within  its  walls  may  hold 

A  home  of  priceless  beauty,  rich  in  Love's  eternal  gold." 


Every  boy  and  every  girl  should  have  definite  ideas  of  the  happy 
home  they  can  help  to  make  now,  and  of  the  home  in  wh'ich,  some  day, 
they  will  be  the  power  that  rules.  Help  them  to  understand  that  in  the 
homes  of  their  parents  is"  found  the  school  which  educates  and  trains 
the  home-makers  of  the  future. 

Notice  the  emphasis  that  Smiles  puts  upon  the  value  of  a  good 
home.  The  mother  is  the  great  power  in  the  making  of  a  good  home, 
but  each  member  of  a  family  should  possess  and  use  some  power  to  add 
to  its  general  success  and  comfort.  Help  the  children  to  appreciate 
their  parents,  let  them  tell  about  the  good  things  enjoyed  day  by  day 
which  are  provided  by  fathers  and  mothers.  Notice  the  qualities  which 
Smiles  considers  are  necessary  for  a  happy  home.  Character,  page  51. 
How  much  of  this  may  children  supply?  Observe  what  he  says  on  page 
64  on  the  value  of  order.     In  how  many  ways  may  a  child  be  orderly  ? 

On  page  66,  Smiles  speaks  of  the  value  of  similar  training  for  both 
sexes.  The  making  of  a  home  is  the  important  thing  and  boys  and 
girls  should  know  how  to  do  whatever  work  is  necessary  to  keep  it  a 
good  comfortable  home. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  115 

Questions,  When  the  pioneers  undertook  the  wonderful  journey 
across  the  plains  they  needed  courage.     Why? 

What  did  they  desire  to  do  in  the  great  western  desert  ? 

What  kind  of  homes  did  they  have  at  first? 

What  kind  do  we  have  now?  (Discuss  some  of  the  modern  con- 
veniences in  homes.) 

Memory  Gem. 

There  are  as  many  pleasant  things, 

As  many  pleasant  tones, 
For  those  who  dwell  by  cottage  hearths 
As  those  who  sit  on  thrones. 

— Phoebe  Cary. 

What  does  the  memory  gem  mean  ? 

Poem.    "Little  Deeds." 

Not  mighty  deeds  make  up  the  sum 

Of  happiness  below; 
But  little  acts  of  kindliness, 

Which  any  child  may  show. 

A  merry  sound,  to  cheer  the  babe 

And  tell  a  friend  is  near, — 
A  word  of  ready  sympathy. 

To  dry  the  childish  tear, — 

A  glass  of  water  timely  brought, — 

An  offered  easy-chair, — 
A  turning  of  the  window-blind, 

That  all  may  feel  the  air, — 

An  early  flower,  unasked,  bestowed, — 

A  light  and  cautious  tread, — 
A  voice  to  gentlest  whisper  hushed, 

To  spare  the  aching  head, — 

O,  deeds  like  these,  tho'  little  things. 

Yet  purest  love  disclose. 
As  fragrant  perfume  on  the  air 

Reveals  the  hidden  rose. 

Our  Heavenly  Father  loves  to  see 

These  precious  fruits  of  love; 
And,  if  we  only  serve  Him  here. 

We'll  dwell  with  Him  above. 

— Hymns  for  Mothers  and  Children. 


116  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Reading.  There  is  an  angel  of  the  seedtime,  and  once,  we  are  told, 
a  child  asked  the  angel :  "Where  shall  I  sow  seed  ?  Shall  I  plant  it  at 
my  own  doorstep,  or  shall  I  go  afar  and  plant  it  on  thfe  plain?"  What 
was  the  answer?  What  did  the  angel  tell  the  child?  These  were  her 
words:  ''Sow  the  seed  in  the  very  nearest  place  first;  sow  it  in  the 
dooryard ;  then  in  the  field  just  beyond ;  then  in  the  far-off  fields."  The 
angel  gave  good  advice.  If  you  want  to  do  a  kindness,  do  not  run  to 
the  ends  of  the  earth  to  do  it,  but  find  somebody  right  by  your  own  door. 
If  you  want  to  be  a  little  missionary,  do  not  think  you  must  go  to  some 
foreign  place  to  find  some  person  to  take  help  to.  The  person  who 
needs  you  is  very  close  to  you,  near  by  you,  not  far  away.  Be  a  little 
missionary  to  that  one.  This  is  a  good  rule  for  your  life.  Make  glad 
the  spot  that  is  nearest  to  your  own  life.  Make  glad  the  home  where 
you  live.  Then,  when  you  go  outside  the  home,  make  glad  those  who 
are  near  by.  Do  not  wait  and  wait  to  make  glad  someone  who  is  far, 
far  away. 

Quotations,     Proverbs  14:1;  17:1;  Galatians  6:9-10. 

LESSON  TEN. 

The  Busy  Hour. 

MAKING  BOXES. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teachers,  Boxes  have  been  selected  for  this 
lesson  to  continue  the  thought  of  help  in  the  home.  The  children  may 
be  helped  through  the  making  of  these  boxes  to  form  the  habit  of  hav- 
ing places  for  things  and  keeping  them  there.  The  children  should  be 
asked  to  decide  what  they  will  keep  in  the  boxes. 

The  designs  for  the  boxes  are  suggestive  and  if  any  of  the  teachers 
know  of  better  ones,  they  should  be  used. 

Be  sure  to  use  the  memory  gem  and  whenever  possible  sing  while 
working.     The  following  are  suggested: 

"Loving  Mother,  Kind  and  True," 

"This  is  Mother,  Kind  and  Tender,'' 

"The  Busy  Bee," 

"Hearts  and  Homes,"  all  from  The  Primary  Song  Book.  If  de- 
sired, these  songs  may  be  used  at  all  the  other  sessions  of  the  month. 

Discuss  with  the  children  the  value  of  having  a  place  for  every- 
thing and  everything  in  its  place.  Notice  the  importance  of  this  in  the 
making  of  a  happy  home,  (see  Smiles.) 

Be  sure  that  the  children  understand  that  the  making  of  the  box  is 
one  part  of  their  responsibility  in  making  the  home  and  that  it  is  to  be 
so  well  made  it  will  be  well  used.  It  will  be  advisable  to  have  small 
groups,  let  all  the  officers  assist.  When  it  is  necessary  to  purchase 
materials,  concerts,  socials  or  other  entertainments  should  be  given  to 
raise  the  necessary  means,  but  as  much  as  possible,  use  materials  which 
do  not  cost  money.     For  instance,  in  making  the  boxes  suggested  use 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


117 


clean,  empty  boxes,  such  as  shoe,  waist  or  underwear  boxes,  which  may 
be  obtained  from  the  stores.  The  teacher  will  need  to  cut  them  into 
flat  pieces  ready  for  use.  It  would  be  a  good  plan  to  call  in  some  of 
the  older  ^boys  and  g^rls  to  assist  in  the  preparation  of  the  forms  to 
be  made. 

Use  the  following: 

"Make  places  for  things  where  they  always  can  stay ; 
Where  you  can  put  things  neatly  away. 
Then  you  will  know  where  they  are  the  next  day." 
Raffia  or  Reed  baskets  may  be  made  instead  of  boxes,  but  should 
not  be  undertaken  unless  the  teachers  have  had  some  previous  experi- 
ence.    However,  if  used  they  must  be  very  simple  and  within  the  limi- 
tations of  the  children.     "How  to  Make  Baskets,"  by  White,  is  recom- 
mended to  those  who  prefer  the  baskets. 

Materials  for  all  grades.     Heavy  paper  or  light  weight  cardboard. 
Colored  string  or  narrow  ribbon. 

Scissors,  pocket  knives,  hatpins,  crochet  hooks,  large  darning  nee- 
.dles  or  punch  to  use  for  making  holes. 
Rulers  and  pencils. 

FIRST  GRADE. 

Square  Box.  For  pattern  use  a  piece  of  plain  paper  six  inches 
square.  Fold  as  indicated  in  drawing  one,  cut  out  four  corners  and  you 
can  fold  into  box  shape.  Prepare  the  cardboard  or  heavy  paper,  cutting 
by  pattern  and  score  bending  places  with  a  pocket  knife.  Make  enough 
holes  in  sides  of  boxes  to  lace  sides  securely ;  have  four  pieces  of  string 
or  ribbon  for  each  box.  The  children's  part  will  be  the  lacing  and 
with  the  assistance  of  the  teacher  the  tying. 

SECOND  GRADE. 

Oblong  Box,  For  pattern  use  a  piece  of  plain  paper  eight  inches 
square.  Fold  as  indicated  in  drawing  one,  which  gives  sixteen  squares 
cut  off  four  squares  from  one  side,  cut  out  the  four  corners  and  by 
folding  you  see  the  oblong  box.  Prepare  for  each  child  as  in  the  first 
grade.  If  desirable  some  simple  decoration  may  be  used,  such  as  col- 
ored edges  made  with  crayons  or  pencils. 


• 

— 

DRAWING  ONE. 


118 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 
THIRD  GRADE. 


Box  with  Cover.  If  materials  are  to  be  had  make  a  larger  box  in 
this  class.  By  comparing  drawing  one  and  two  you  will  see  how  to  get 
a  correct  pattern.  Prepare  pieces  of  paper  and  have  each  child  make  a 
pattern,  cut  out  cardboard,  make  holes,  (using  a  ruler  to  keep  the  holes 
even),  and  finish  by  lacing  up  the  sides.  Extra  holes  may  be  made  and 
cover  tied  down. 


' 

\ 

• 

DRAWING  TWO. 

FOURTH  AND  FIFTH  GRADES. 

Fancy  Box,  There  are  five  pieces  in  this  box,  the  size  is  left  to  the 
discretion  of  the  teachers.  It  may  be  finished  so  as  to  be  a  good  plain 
box  or  so  decorated  as  to  be  very  pretty.  Perhaps  it  would  be  a  good 
plan  to  prepare  the  patterns  the  size  desired,  get  each  basket  well  started 
in  the  class  and  have  them  finished  at  home.  For  decoration,  pieces 
of  wallpaper,  which  have  been  left  over,  may  be  pasted  over  the  pieces 
on  both  sides,  then  laced  with  cord  or  ribbon  of  harmonizing  color. 


DRAWING  THREE. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  119 

\      .  LESSON  ELEVEN. 

The  Story  Hour. 

Suggestions  for  the  teacher.  The  stories  given  for  this  hour  are 
suggestive  and  have  been  selected  to  follow  the  thought  for  the  month. 
The  teachers  should  read  them  and  find  the  best  points  to  emphasize. 
If  the  stories  printed  in  this  issue  are  used  it  will  be  very  helpful  to 
have  the  children  read  them  at  home  and  at  this  session  discuss  them 
and  relate  to  the  thought  of  the  month.  If  other  stories  on  the  sub- 
ject are  to  be  found  the  teachers  should  feel  at  liberty  to  use  them. 

FIRST  GRADE. 

Songs,  games  and  rest  exercises  must  not  be  omitted  in  this  grade. 

Stories,  Picture  books  as  suggested  or  The  Pig  Brother,  How  to 
Tell  Stories,  page  141,  or: 

A  Dusty  Surprise,  or  Robert's  Glad  Day,  in  this  issue  of  the 
Children's  Friend. 

SECOND  GRADE. 

Songs.    I^est  exercises. 

Stories.  Bennie's  Sunshine,  Boston  Collection  of  Kindergarten 
Stories,  page  136;  or: 

Go-Carts  and  Spinning  Wheels,  or  Visiting  the  Sick,  in  this  issue 
of  The  Children's  Friend. 

THIRD  GRADE. 

Stories.  Swiss  Family  Robinson;  or:  Procrastinating  Polly,  in 
this  issue  of  The  Children's  Friend. 

■ 

FOURTH.  GRADE. 

Stories.  Timothy's  Quest  by  Wiggin ;  or.  How  to  Save  Time,  in 
this  issue  of  The  Children's  Friend. 

FIFTH  GRADE. 

Stories.    Rebecca  of  Sunnybrook  Farm,  by  Wiggin ;  or : 
Miss  Martha's  Discovery,  or  Her  Father's  Helper,  in  this  issue  of 
The  Children's  Friend. 


120  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 


The  Social  Hour. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teachers. 

Careful  and  thorough  preparation  on  the  part  of  officers  and 
teachers  will  do  much  to  make  this  hour  a  happy  and  profitable  one. 
Keep  in  mind  the  fact  that  the  play  period  can  be  made  of  real  value  to 
the  child  if  he  is  directed  to  play  with  fairness  and  without  unnecessary 
disorder. 

It  should  be  part  of  the  program  to  leave  the  hall  used  in  good 
order.  It  is  suggested  that  the  children  have  a  share  in  doing  this, 
not  alone  that  the  janitor  and  others  may  not  be  put  to  any  inconveni- 
ence, but  for  the  educational  value  there  is  in  it  for  the  child.  This 
month's  work  considers  the  value  of  order  and  system  in  making  the 
home  happy.  Let  these  thoughts  be  worked  out  in  a  practical  way  at 
this  time  and  they  will  be  made  more  forceful. 

PROGRAM  FOR  ALL  THE  GRADES. 

Preliminary  Music. 

Prayer. 

Singing,    "Jesus  Once  was  a  Little  Child."    Primary  Song  Book, 

Spring  Song,    To  be  selected. 

Singing  Game,    "Kull  Danzen."    Popular  Folk  Songs,  page  13. 

Story,    To  be  selected. 

Song  Plays,    "I  See  You."    Swedish  Song  Plays,  page  4. 

"Did  You  Ever  See  a  Lassie."  Games  for  the  Playground,  page 
261. 

Games.  "Old  Woman  from  the  Wood."  Games  for  the  Play- 
ground, page  143. 

"Trades."    Games  for  the  Playground,  page  199. 

"Poor  Pussy."    Games  for  the  Playground,  page  150. 

Memory  Gems,    To  be  selected. 

Folk  Dance,  "Jolly  Miller."  Old  and  New  Singing  Games,  page  23. 

Song,     "Home."    Primary  Song  Book,  page  77. 

Benediction, 


"SHE   WILL  Live'     SAID    Tl!i;  0[.n  INDIAN  IX^CTOk, 


Vol.  12.  MARCH,  1913.  No.  3. 


LliTI^E  PRINCESS  WISLA. 

By  Sophie  Swett, 
Chapter  III. — Pokeberry  Ink. 

Old  Winne-Lackee  only  paddled  faster  and  faster  when  she  heard 
the  luncheon  bell  that  was  ringing  and  ringing  for  little  Peggy  Piper. 
But  she  dared  not  paddle  far,  for  in  the  small  canoe  she  had  not  been 
able  to  revive  the  little  white  girl. 

Only  the  faintest  breath  fluttered  through  Peggy's  lips ;  there  was 
scarcely  a  stirring  of  her  pulse. 

Into  a  small  cove  paddled  the  Indian  woman  where  the  woods 
were  so  thick  that  no  one  could  see  her  from  any  of  the  passing  boats. 

Here  she  tried  the  movements  that  the  Indians  use  to  revive  those 
who  are  nearlv  drowned. 

It  was  rough  treatment,  but  before  long  it  made  Peggy  open  her 
eyes. 

They  were  very  dark  eyes.  They  looked  to  Winne-Lackee  like 
the  eyes  of  little  Swaying  Reed,  her  granddaughter  who  had  died. 

The  old  Squaw  was  full  of  queer  Indian  fancies  and  she  almost 
believed  that  the  Great  Spirit  had  given  her  this  child  to  make  up  for 
the  loss  of  her  granddaughter. 

She  felt  almost  as  if  little  Swaying  Reed*s  soul  had  come  back  in 
this  child's  body.  She  caught  Peggy  in  her  arms  and  kissed  her  and 
kissed  her. 

But  Pegg>''s  eyes  closed  agaiil  although  she  was  now  breathing 
regularly,  and  Winne-Lackee  lifted  her  into  the  canoe  once  more  and 
paddled  away  as  fast  as  she  could. 

She  cast  one  backward  glance  across  the  river  to  the  large  white 
house,  with  the  sloping  lawn  and  orchard,  from  which  she  had  heard 
the  sound  of  the  bell.  They  were  ringing  for  someone  who  did  not 
come !    Perhaps  for  this  child  who  would  never  come ! 

In  her  queer  old  Indian  heart  Winne-Lackee  felt  a  pang  of  sym- 
pathy for  the  child's  mother.  But  her  longing  to  keep  the  child  was 
•Wronger  than  the  sympathy. 

"The  river  give  her  to  me — she  is  mine!"  she  said  to  herself. 
"Pale-face  mother  have  not  heart  like  Indian  woman — it  does  not  break 
for  her  child !  She  shall  be  Winne-Lackee's  little  princess !  Winne- 
I^ckee  a  aueen  these  many  years,  but  what  good  a  queen  without  a 
^>rincers?    Now  \Mnn?-Lackee  will  have  her  little  princess!" 


124  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

She  looked  about  for  a  place  upon  the  river  bank  that  she  knew ; 
a  place  where  pokeberries  grew.  Pokeberry  juice,  used  as  she  knew 
how  to  use  it,  was  a  stain  that  would  not  come  off ! 

The  pokeberries  there  were  not  yet  ripe  enough  to  yield  their 
juice,  and  after  thinking  for  a  moment  the  old  Squaw  decided  that 
it  would  be  as  well  to  st^in  "little  pale-face"  to  the  color  of  an  Indian 
after  she  had  her  safe  at  home. 

The  old  chief  who  had  been  her  husband  had  made  an  ink  of  the 
pokeberry  juice,  to  use  when  he  signed  his  name  to  the  contracts  for 
furs,  which  he  made  with  the  great  trading  ccAipanies. 

A  little  girl  with  straight  black  hair  like  this  one  could  be  so 
changed  by  that  ink  that  one  would  think  she  had  been  bom  a  pappoose 
in  a  wigwam. 

The  Indians  might  not  be  deceived  but  they  would  scarcely  dare 
to  whisper  what  they  suspected,  even  to  each  other. 

Winne-Lackee  was  rich  and  powerful.  Even  on  the  island,  where 
the  Indians  had  schools  and  a  church,  they  still  had  the  ancient  Indian 
belief  that  the  Great  Spirit  had  given  strange,  powers  to  some  people, 
and  Winne-Lackee  was  one  of  them.  They  would  not  be  sure  that 
she  could  not  bring  her  little  dead  grandchild  back  in  the  shape  of 
this  young  pale-face! 

"It  is  just  as  some  girls  and  boys  believe  in  witches  and  giants 
when  there  are  really  no  such  things  outside  of  the  fairy  books ! 

So  Winne-Lackee  knew  the  Indians  on  the  island  would  never  ask 
her  anything  she  did  not  choose  to  tell  about  Peggy. 

Winne-Lackee  paddled  very  fast  now.  And  .even  while  she  pad- 
dled hard  she  leaned  over  and  parted  the  still  dripping  hair  on  Peggy's 
head.  There  was  a  great  hi^iise  very  near  to  the  temple  and  reaching 
around  to  the  back  of  the  head. 

"It  is  like  the  blow  that  Jo  Molasses  got  when  he  dived  and  struck 
his  head  on  a  stone  in  the  river !"  said  the  old  Squaw  to  herself.  "And 
Jo  forgot  everything!" 

Winne-Lackee's  queer  old  withered  face  shone  with  joy. 

From  far  off  she  heard  a  ringing  of  bells.  Perhaps  the  bells  of 
Pollywhoppet  were  already  ringing  to  let  the  town  know  that  a  child 
was  lost. 

There  would  be  great  excitement.  Pollywhoppet  and  Pekoe,  the 
next  town,  would  be  aroused  and  even  Gobang,  the  city  on  the  other 
side  of  the  river,  would  send  out  policemen  and  searching  parties,  be- 
fore long! 

But  Winne-Lackee  only  smiled  grimly  at  the  thought. 

Around  the  next  turn  of  the  river  her  island  would  be  in  sight. 
Once  safely  there  she  could  make  sure  that  no  one  would  take  her  little 
princess  from  her. 

Winne-Lackee  paddled  fast  as  if  the  bells  were  following  and  might 
overtake  her,  as  if  she  were  afraid  she  might  think  again  of  how  "little 
pale-face's"  mother  would  feel! 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  125 

The  Indian  village  Was  quiet  that  afternoon.  The  men  were  away 
hunting  or  fishing  or  driving  logs  on  the  river. 

Some  small  Indian  boys  were  diving  from  the  pier  into  the  river 
and  the  Squaw  called  to  one  of  them. 

**Run  quick  for  Dr.  Sockobesin,  Joe  Hitt !  Bring  him  to  my  house 
before  I  get  there  myself !" 

Joe  Hitt,  who  was  entertaining  himself  with  a  mud-turtle,  looked  at 
her  doubtfully.  He  did  not  think  he  could  outrun  the  old  Squaw 
although  'she  was  sixty  and  he  but  little  more  than  six.  He  had  seen  old 
Winne-Lackee  run ! 

She  tossed  some  nickels  from  the  gay  bead  bag  that  hung  at  her 
side.  Some  fell  upon  the  pier,  some  into  the  river.  The  water  was 
shoal  and  the  little  Indians  dived  for  the  treasure. 

Joe  Hitt  hesitated  but  for  an  instant  more,  and  then  ran  for  Dr. 
Sockobesin. 

When  no  one  was  looking  Winne-Lackee  took  Peggy  from  the 
canoe  into  her  strong  (5ld  arms  and  hurried  with  her  to  her  own  house. 

While  all  this  was  happening  on  the  river,  at  the  house  in  PoUy- 
whoppet '  they  had  be^n  growing  more  and  more  frightened  about 
Peggy. 

They  thought  at  first,  that  Aunt  Celia,  who  lived  at  Holdfast,  five 
miles  back  from  the  river,  might  have  come  along  in  her  carriage  and 
taken  Peggy  with  her  to  Gobang. 

Grandpapa  Piper  went  about  to  all  the  neighbors  asking  if  they  had 
seen  Peggy. 

Then  they  found  the  over-turned  boat  drifting  upon  the  river ! 

Phi,  when  he  came  home  from  fishing,  said,  "Pooh !  that  is  nothing! 
The  boat  drifted  away  by  itself." 

And  he  snubbed  Betty  Brooks  fiercely  because  she  cried. 

But  the  truth  was  that  Phi  had  rowed  out  upon  the  river  himself 
before  he  came  home,  having  heard  that  Peggy  was  missing,  and  he 
had  picked  up  a  red  hair  ribbon — a  ribbon  that  he  knew ! 

He  was  so  stunned  by  grief  and  fear  that  he  did  not  know  whether 
to  tell  of  it  or  not. 

He  thrust  the  tell-tale  ribbon  into  his  pocket  and  said  to  himself, 
trying  hard  not  to  sob  like  Betty  Brooks,  'They  needn't  ring  the  bells ! 
They'd  better  drag  the  river !" 

He  knew — only  he,  poor  Phi — that  Peggy  was  drowned  in  the 
river. 

Oh,  Winne-Lackee,  even  your  hard  old  Indian  heart  could  not  stifle 
its  pang  if  you  knew  the  suffering  of  those  who  had  lost  their  own 
Peggy ! 

But  just  at  the  time  when  they  had  begun  to  drag  the  river  at 
Pollywhoppet  Winne-Lackee  was  saying  to  Dr.  Sockobesin,  her  old 
friend  whom  she  could  trust,  "The  pale-faces  take  all — all  from  us !  I 
take  only  one  little  pale-face  girl !" 

Peggy  lay  on  a  bed  made  of  sweet  grass  mats  and  softened  deer 
skins,  and  wide-open  eyes  looked  serene  and  not  afraid. 


126  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

"She  will  live/'  said  the  old  Indian  doctor,  who  had  learned  much 
in  the  schools  as  well  as  of  nature,  "but  I  am  not  sure  that  she  will 
ever  remember  who  she  is  or  where  she  came  from." 

Old  Winne-Lackee's  eyes  sparkled. 

"It  is  what  I  hope — that  the  little  pale-face  will  forget  who  she  is 
and  where  she  came  from !     Then  she  will  be  all  mine !"  she  said. 

(to   BE   continued) 


THE  THUMB  WITNESS. 

By  Adelhert  F.  Caldwell. 

Briskly  the  great  bell  struck  the  hour  of  six.  Nothing  ever  dragged 
about  the  Lockwood  woolen  mills ;  even  the  bell  seemed  to  guard  with 
jealous  solicitude  the  prompt  and  business-like  reputation  of  the  com- 
pany. 

Ellen  Parker  was  the  last  to  leave  her  loom  in  the  south  wing  of 
the  annex,  and,  when  she  passed  slowly  out  of  the  open  doors  of  the 
office  exit,  her  alley  mates  had  already  turned  the  corner  into  Chestnut 
Street.  She  hesitated  as  she  stepped  upon  the  wide  plank  walk  leading 
from  the  yard,  and  looked  back  reproachfully  at  the  great  brick  struc- 
ture, now  so  nearly  deserted. 

"I  never,  never,  can  get  used  to  it!"  cried  the  girl  as  she  drew  u]) 
her  jacket  collar  a  bit  closer  round  her  neck.  "If  it  weren't  for  sup- 
porting dear  little  rheumatic  mother,"  and  she  choked  back  a  rebellious 
lump,  "I  would  find  more  congenial  work,  where  Fd  have  less  wages, 
perhaps,  but  different  companionship — not  Laura  Dowd,  Sarah  Mason, 
and  that  Kilgore  girl." 

Ten  years  before,  Ellen  Parker  had  visited  Lennox,  the  home  of  her 
school  chum,  and  the  visit,  planned  only  for  a  week,  lengthened  out  into 
a  month  before  the  letter  came,  reminding  the  "mother-nest  truant,"  as 
Mrs.  Parker  playfully  put  it,  that  even  the  most  cordial  hospitality  had 
a  **snap  place"  somewhere. 

Margaret  Ellingwood,  Ellen's  chum,  was  a  member  of  the  Girls' 
Improvement  League  of  Lennox,  and  had  invited  E!'  n  to  accompany 
her  on  a  visit  to  the  Lockwood  mills  with  a  bundle  of  rcaJing  matter. 

Ellen  had  never  been  in  a  woolen  mill  before,  and,  fascinated  by 
the  whir  of  the  shuttle  and  the  skill  of  the  girls  at  the  looms,  had  asked 
eagerly  of  a  good-natured  Scotch  girl,  "Do  you  suppose  I  could  learn?" 

"To  be  sure ;  it's  an  easy  matter !     Two  good  weeks  are  a-plenty." 

So,  every  morning,  by  the  overseer's  permission,  Ellen  gayly  took 
her.  place  by  the  noisy  loom,  and  in  a  trifle  over  the  time  specified,  so 
apt  a  pupil  had  she  been,  she  could  weave  almost  as  well  as  her  trainer. 

"If  you  are  ever  looking  for  a  job,"  laughed  the  overseer,  good- 
naturedly,  "I'll  have  one  ready  for  you." 

On  that  happy  morning,  Ellen  little  dreamed  of  ever  being  obHged 
to  seek  employment  of  the  genial  overseer,  as  she  answered,  smiling,  "I 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  127 

certainly  will,  Mr.  Collins;  and  it  will  not  be  bad,  either,  for  it's  just 
play." 

Ten  years  later,  a  family  of  two  moved  into  a  little  Lennox  flat. 
The  husband  and  father  was  dead,  and  the  property  had  been  lost  in 
a  bank  failure.  It  w^as  only  after  repeated  attempts  to  obtain  a  situa- 
tion as  teacher,  and  as  many  failures,  that  Ellen  Parker,  pale  and  hesi- 
tating, presented  herself  at  the  Lockwood  mill  office  and  inquired  for 
Mr.  Collins. 

"If  he  shouldn't  be  here,"  she  whispered,  almost  frightened  at  the 
thought.  But  he  was,  for  it  was  the  policy  of  the  Lockwood  Company 
to  retain  its  competent  employees  as  long  as  possible. 

"Fm  afraid  I  can't  give  you  a  job  at  present,"  replied  Mr.  Collins, 
kindly,  as  Ellen  made  known  her  errand.  "Help  seems  to  be  more 
plentiful  than  the  demand  just  now." 

Ellen  was  about  to  turn  away  relieved,  almost  happy,  at  what  she 
heard,  when,  at  the  thought  of  the  mother  to  support,  she  said,  slowly, 
without  looking  up,  "Don't  you  remember  you  once  told  a  g^rl,  who  had 
learned  to  weave  just  for  fun,  that  if  she  ever  wanted  employment 
you'd  give  it  to  her?" 

Mr.  Collins  looked  perplexed.  "You  remember  Miss  fellingwood 
and  the  girl  who — " 

"I  do  remember ;  and  the  girl's  name  was — " 

"Parker."     • 

"And  you  are  she?     I  recall  your  face  now." 

In  a  week  a  loom  was  vacant,  and  Ellen  Parker  began  her  work. 
Many  were  the  conjectures  of  the  girls  as  to  who  she  was,  and  why  so 
well-dressed  and  refined  a  girl  should  seek  employment  in  the  mill. 

"It's  a  case  of  have  to,"  asserted  Dora  Kilgore,  the  leader  of  the 
girls  in  Alley  Four.  "Sudden  change  of  fortune,  death  of  father,  or 
loss  of  property,  or  something." 

"I'd  like  to  get  acquainted  with  her,"  remarked  Sarah  Mason,  in 
the  dressing  room  a  few  days  later,  as  Ellen  Parker  passed  silently 
from  the  group. 

"But  you'll  not  if  she  continues  as  she  has,"  laughed  Kate  Riley. 
"She's  another  keep-my-side-of-the-fence  girl,  just  like  that  Miss  Akers. 
My!  wasn't  it  a  relief  when  she  got  a  situation  as  governess  some- 
where !" 

"I  like  her  for  one  thing;  she  attends  to  her  own  affairs,"  said 
Dora,  taking  down  her  hat.     "And  she's  a  splendid  worker." 

For  three  months  Ellen  Parker  worked  in  the  Lockwood  mill,  and 
at  the  end  of  that  time  was  as  much  a  stranger  to  her  alley  mates  as 
she  was  the  day  she  entered.  Only  once  had  she  "unshelled,"  as  Kate 
had  said,  and  that  was  when  Laura  Dowd  had  crushed  her  thumb,  and 
then  she  had  known  exactly  what  to  do.  "She  acted  just  like  a  doctor 
and  mother  combined,"  declared  Laura,  afterwards. 

"You'd  have  done  it  for  me,"  was  Ellen's  unsympathetic  reply  to 
Laura's  girlish  expression  of  gratitude. 

"She  was  so  distant  I  couldn't  say  another  thing  or  half  thank  her 


128  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

for  her  kindness,"  Laura  later  confided  to  Kate.     "Queer,  isn't  she?" 

The  "queemess'  had  resulted  from  a  mistaken  notion  that  the 
whispering  of  the  little  group  of  girls,  that  first  day  of  her  coming 
among  them,  had  meant  an  attitude  of  unfavorable  criticism.  This  had 
been  the  cause  of  Ellen  Parker's  air  of  reserve.  "They  regard  me  as 
an  intruder,  as  above  them,"  was  her  almost  daily  reflection,  and  her 
conviction  made  more  and  more  pronounced  her  distant  attitude. 

One  morning  Ellen  Parker's  loom  was  silent.  "I  wonder  where 
the  miss  is  ?"  inquired  Sarah.  No  one  called  Ellen  Parker  by  her  g^veii 
name. 

"Left  perhaps;  found  something  better,"  replied  Kate.  *'She  is 
not  one  of  the  kind  that  stay  in  mills." 

At  home,  in  the  narrow  flat,  lay  Ellen  Parker,  ill.  "Very  ill,"  re- 
marked the  sympathetic  physician,  as  he  passed  out  into  the  hall. 

At  noon  a  note  from  Mrs.  Parker  was  sent  to  Mr.  Collins. 

"Girls,"  said  Laura,  earnestly,  when  they  heard  of  Ellen's  illness, 
"let's  do  it.     Mr.  Collins  will  be  willing." 

That  noon  a  bevy  of  girls  from  Alley  Four  had  a  conference  in  Mr. 
Collins'  private  room.  "If  you  think  you  can  do  it  and  not  neglect  your 
own  work,  I  haven't  any  serious  objection,"  was  his  concluding  remark. 

"Don't  worry  about  it,  dear.  Perhaps  there'll  be  another  place," 
said  Mrs.  Parker,  gently  bathing  her  daughter's  head.  "I'm  sure 
there'll  be  some  way  provided." 

"But. I  can't  make  so  much  anywhere  else,  and  if  I  shouldn't  get 
bcick  my  place !  I'm  afraid  the  girls  may  keep  me  from  having  my  old 
work  again !" 

"There,  there !"  soothed  Mrs.  Parker,  "don't  regard  it  so  seriously, 
dear." 

"It's  been  a  month,  yesterday,  since  I  had  to  leave,  and  I  can't 
be  out  again  for  at  least  another,"  and  Ellen  turned  restlessly  in  her  bed. 
An  hour  later,  Mrs.  Parker  brought  into  the  room  an  envelope  bearing 
the  stamp  of  the  Lockwood  mill. 

"Open  it,  mother,  and  see  what  it  says.  Probably  that  I  can't  go 
back!" 

As  Mrs.  Parker  took  out  the  business  sheet  a  check  fell  to  the  floor. 

"Payment  in  full  for  the  last  month's  work,"  read  the  letter. 

"What  does  it  mean,  mother?"  asked  Ellen,  in  a  dazed  sort  of 
way.     "It's  a  mistake.     I  don't  understand  it !" 

The  matter  wasn't  explained  until  later  Ellen  had  received  a  sec- 
ond check,  and  was  able  to  present  herself  at  the  company's  office. 
Then  she  learned  that  the  girls  had  kept  her  loom  running  in  addition 
to  their  own,  each  day  of  her  illness,  and  that  it  stood  ready  for  its 
operator  as  soon  as  she  was  again  able  to  resume  her  work. 

"It  isn't  the  two  checks  that  I'm  grateful  for,  half  so  much  as  for 
your  friendship,  girls,"  declared  Ellen,  with  tearful  sincerity.  "I've 
wanted  it  for  months — " 

"While  all  the  time  you  had  it  and  didn't  know,"  interrupted  Laura; 
brightly,  "as  my  deformed  little  thumb  can  testify." 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  129 


THE  OLD  DOLL. 

At  her  mother's  request,  Marjorie  put  her  new  doll  into  the  car- 
riage and  went  outdoors. 

"Now,  take  your  new  dolly  to  ride,"  her  mother  hiad  said,  but 
Marjorie  got  no  farther  than  the  summerhouse.  a  few  yards  away.  She 
sat  down  on  the  lowest  step,  drew  the  doll  carriage  up  close,  and  looked 
the  new  doll  squarely  in. the  face. 

"No  name !"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  "no  name,  but  I  can't,  ffive  you 
Mary  Jane's ;  for  even  if  she  is  too  shabby  to  sit  by  your  sid^;  she  shall 
still  be  one  of  my  children.  You  are  beautiful — you  are !  But  so  was 
Mary  Jane  once." 

Marjorie  started  up  with  a  determined  air,  and  went  near  the 
house.  Through  the  open  window  came  the  sound  of  her  mother's 
voice :  "No\y,  Esther,  I'm  going  to  put  this  old  doll  into  the  ragbag. 
That  child  shall  not  drag  about  such  a  looking  thing  any  longer. ,  If  you 
say  nothing  about  it,  she'll  never  ask  for  it,  for  I  know  she  is  delighted 
with  her  new  doll." 

Marjorie  stood  still  outside  the  window.  "O,  dear,  I  wish  I  could 
stop  crying,"  she  sobbed ;  '*I  must  run  oflF  so  mamma  won't  see  me,  and 
know  that  I  heard.  But  I'll  find  Mary  Jane — I  will!  And  I'll  hide 
her  where  no  one  can  find  her ;  but  near  enough  so  I  can  have  her  when 
I'm  lonesome." 

Marjorie  soon  found  an  opportunity  to  search  the  ragbag.  She 
hauled  out  the  sorry-looking  Mary  Jane,  and  secretly  resolved  to  hide 
her  under  the  bedclothes.  "Away  down  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,"  thought 
Marjorie. 

Bedtime  came.  Mamma,  smiling  at  the  thought  of  her  easy  disT 
missal  of  Mary  Jane,  gave  Marjorie  her  new  doll,  and  kissed  her  good 
night. 

Marjorie  could  not  go  to  sleep  at  just  that  minute.  Mary  Jane 
was  smothering  at  the  bottom  of  the  bed. 

"I'll  take  her  out  for  just  two  or  three  minutes,  and  put  her  right 
back  again,  so  mamma  won't  see  her  in  the  morning."  But  in  the 
morning  mamma  saw  the  shabby  doll  clasped  in  the  chubby  little  hands, 
and  the  new  doll  lying  on  the  floor,  and  she  knew  the  old  love  had  come 
back  to  stay. — Kindergarten  Review. 

CLEVER  MICE. 

Mice  sometimes  do  very  smart  things,  and  a  gentleman  who  has 
studied  them  and  watched  their  ways  tells  of  once  seeing  some  mice 
cross  a  stream  of  water.  He  says  that  eight  or  ten  mice  dragged  a 
piece  of  turf  to  the  edge  of  the  stream.  Then  they  all  got  on  this 
funny  little  raft,  sitting  with  their  heads  toward  the  center,  and  their 
tails  in  the  water.  The  current  carried  them  down  the  stream,  and  at 
last  landed  them  on  the  other  side. — Selected. 


RAIN. 

If  every  day  the  sun  should  shine 
And  clouJs  forget  to  rain, 

I  couldn't  wear  my  rubher  boots 
Or  sail  my  boats  again. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  131 


THE  GRANDMOTHER  MASCOT. 

The  old  lady  sat  next  to  me  in  the  first  row  of  seats  of  the  grand- 
stand at  the  county  fair.  She  was  attired  in  her  old-style  Sunday  best. 
The  pink-pointed  finger  tips  showing  through  a  mesh  of  silken  darns 
showed  the  nails  to  be  as  carefully  manicured  as  those  of  the  most 
fastidious  school  girl.  The  thin  roll  of  white  hair,  augmented  by  soft 
wave^.was  tucked  beneath  a  hat  of  crushed  and  faded  violets  and  lace. 
Her  silk  cape  falling  back  showed  an  exquisite  turnover  of  point  lace 
and  a  quaint  old  fashioned  brooch.  The  soft  kid  shoe  peeping  from  the 
dUstless  alpaca,  the  unobtrusive  gentle  manner,  the  soft  voice,  ^1 
marked  the  old  lady  as  a  gentle-woman  of  the  old  school,  whose  woman- 
liness had  proven  paramount  to  poverty. 

She  showed  little  interest  in  the  racing  until  the  horses  were  led 
irotn  the  track,  when  she  turned  to  me  and,  in  the  soft  eastern  accent, 
said:  "The  bicycle  race  comes  next.  I  drove  in  today  to  see  this. 
My  grandson,  Jack,  is  said  to  be  the  best  on  the  wheel  in  the  township, 
and  the  neighbors  think  Jack  will  come  home  with  the  purse  of  $200. 
^But  I  told  him  'twas  too  good  to  be  true,  that  we  must  be  a  little  more 
economical  for  a  year  or  two.  But  Jack  only  whistled  and  rubbed 
away  at  his  wheel. 

"That  young  man  in  the  blue  cap  is  Jack's  chum  down  at  the  acad- 
emy. Jack  persuaded  him  to  come  up  and  join  in  the  race.  They  call 
Jack  and  his  chum  Damon  and  Pythias  down  at  the  school,  for  some 
reason,  but  the — "  the  silken  mantle  w^as  drawn  about  the  excited  little 
body,  the  lace  and  violets  were  readjusted,  the  gold-rimmed  spectacles 
were  polished  with  a  folded  perfumed  handkerchief.  The  proud  little 
spirit  sat  erect  and  confined  as  the  half  dozen  contestants  for  the  $200 
purse  rode  gracefully  beneath  the  ribbon. 

After  the  fourth  mile  it  was  evident  that  the  honors  of  the  day  lav 
between  Jack  and  his  chum,  but  neither  seemed  to  know  where  the  other 
was  and  both  were  quickly  working  to  win. 

When  the  last  round  up  was  on  Jack  was  seen  to  be  the  length  of 
wheel  behind  and  losing,  and  when  beginning  the  last  half  mile  was  six 
rods  behind  his  chum,  who,  unconscious  of  his  possible  victory,  was 
wheeling  with  a  steady  tread  and  an  easy  swing  that  showed  he  had  not 
reached  the  limit  of  his  power.  But  when,  opposite  the  grandstand  he 
glanced  up  at  the  front  row  of  seats  he  fumbled  his  pedal,  and  was 
noticed  as  tacking  across  the  track,  and  only  regained  his  equilibrium 
when  Jack  had  reached  and  left  him  such  a  distance  in  the  rear  that 
all  his  efforts  in  catching  up  proved  futile. 

Jack,  with  a  radiant  glance  at  the  front  row  of  seats  of  the  grand- 
stand, sped  under  the  ribbon  for  the  last  time,  almost  a  fourth  of  the 
last  half  mile  in  the  lead,  and  the  crowd  cheering  the  victor,  passed  out 
to  the  surrounding  booths. 

Two  missionaries  from  India,  waiting  at  Washington  for  the  be- 
lated limited  to  Chicago,  were  whiling  away  the  time  in  reminiscence 


132  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

when  the  topic  drifted  to  the  insignificant  events  which  had  determined 
their  career.  The  older  one  of  the  two  drew  from  his  breast  pocket  the 
picture  of  a  sharp-featured,  bright-eyed  daughter  of  New  England. 
The  white,  wavy  hair  was  tucked  beneath  a  hat  of  drooping  violets  and 
lace.    A  quaint  brooch  held  to  the  neck  a  collar  of  exquisite  lace. 

"This  dear  old  lady,"  said  he,  "was  the  unconscious  inspiration  of 
the  first  unselfish  act  in  my  life.  My  chum,  Jack  Baldwin,  asked  me 
to  go  up  to  the  county  fair  when  I  was  attending  the  preparatory  school 
at  Wilton  and  insisted  that  I  enter  the  bicycle  race  for  a  purse  of  $200. 
Now,  Jack  did  not  know  that  I  had  already  attained  great  skill  in  bicy- 
cling from  a  two  years'  regular  practice  while  attending  high  school 
the  previous  year.  Neither  did  I  know  that  the  matter  of  getting  that 
$200  was  a  vital  one  to  Jack,  for  he  came  of  that  New  England  stock 
which  is  superior  to  finance.  I  was  wheeling  sturdily  to  victory  that 
afternoon,  enjoying  the  pleasure  of  the  surprise  to  my  friend  when  I 
looked  up  at  the  grandstand  and  saw  the  face  of  the  devoted  grand- 
mother of  Jack.  An  expression  of  unutterable  disappointment  marked 
the  features  of  the  face.  I  fumbled  the  pedal  and  lost  the  race,  but 
that  evening  at  the  home  of  dear  old  Jack  I  saw  and  learned  how  much 
$200  meant  to  the  hospitable  grandmother  of  Jack,  and  for  the  first 
time  of  my  life  experienced  the  joy  of  sacrificing  for  others.  When  I 
went  back  to  school  I  studied  with  the  purpose  of  doing  something 
■when  I  had  finished  that  would  bring  joy  to  others.  And — "  here, 
one  of  a  group  of  United  States  senators  standing  near  the  missionary, 
and  waiting  the  flyer  to  Boston,  recognized  in  the  picture  the  saintly 
face  of  his  devoted  grandmother,  and  the  Damon  and  Pythias  of  school 
days  again  met,  both  feeling  a  new  power  in  the  term  "friendship,"  and 
both  thankful  for  the  grandmother  mascot. 


I  f 


LOWELL  ON  TREES 

I  willingly  confess  so  great  a  partiality  for  trees  as  tempts  me  to 
respect  a  man  in  exact  proportion  to  his  respect  for  them.  He  cannot 
be  w^holly  bad  who  has  a  sympathy  with  what  is  so  innocent  and  so 
beautiful  But  quite  apart  from  any  sentimental  consideration,  the 
influence  of  trees  upon  climate  and  rainfall  gives  to  the  planting  of 
trees,  and  to  the  protection  of  them  where  nature  has  already  planted 
them.  a. national  importance.  Our  wicked  wastfulness  and  contempt 
for  the  teaching  of  science  in  this  matter  will  most  surely  be  avenged 
on  our  descendants.  Nature  may  not  instantly  rebuke,  but  she  never 
forgives  the  breach  of  her  laws. — ^James  Russell  Lowell. 


THE  TOMAHAWK  CI.UB  WERE  SITTING  ROfNDTHE  COUNCIL  FIRE. 

"TOMMY  CRACKERS." 

By  Caroline  S.  Griffin. 

The  members  of  the  Tomahawk  Club  were  sitting  round  the 
Council  Fire,  ready  for  the  evening  chat. 

The  Council  Fire  of  the  Tomahawk  Club  was  held  in  one  place  or 
another  according  to  the  weather.  Tonight  it  was  on  the  old  stone 
ledge  back  of  the  Chief's  garden.  There  was  a  good  safe  crack  in  this 
ledge  for  a  fire. 

The  Tomahawk  was  an  easy  club,  just  the  kind  for  little  fellows 
of  ten  and  twelve ;  and  the  Council  Fire  and  the  Pipe  of  Peace  and  the 
club  name  made  it  just  Indian-y  enough  to  be  in  the  fashion. 

There  were  six  members.  One  was  the  "Chief,"  and  the  other 
five  were  the  "Council." 

The  Tomahawk's  "Rules  and  Regulations"  were  very  simple. 

There  was  but  one  Rule :     The  word  of  the  Chief  is  lasv. 

There  was  but  one  Regulation :  this  was  to  the  effect  that  no  mem- 
ber should  receive  his  "club  name"  until  he  had  done  some  deed  that 
indicated  what  the  name  ought  to  be ;  the  case  of  "Tommy  Crackers" 
will  show  you  how  this  Regulation  worked.  Tommy  had  already  a 
private  name,  a  truly  Indian  name,  one  borrowed  from  Mr.  Longfellow. 
He  was  never  called  by  it  publicly,  for  it  would  have  hurt  his  feehngs. 
The  name  was  "lagoo."  Any  boy  can  find  it,  and  its  meaning,  in  Mr, 
Longfellow's  Hiawatha. 


134  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

The  Chief's  principal  duty  was  to  propose  pleasant  things  to  do 
and  to  pronounce  Punishments.  In  his  Inauguration  Address,  he  ex- 
plained to  the  Club  that  his  idea  of  Punishments  was  "something  that 
would  not  hurt,  but  would  cure!' 

The  Council's  principal  duty  was  to  exclaim,  "sure!"  sure!"  "that's 
so!"  whenever  the  Chief  was  making  an  address. 

Tonight  nothing  seemed  doing.  At  such  times  it  was  the  Chief's 
duty  to  bring  forward  something  interesting. 

"I  bet  you  don't  know  how  many  crackers  I  ate  last  night !"  sud- 
denly he  remarked. 

"Dry  J"  inquired  one  of  the  Council. 

"Certain,"  replied  the  Chief. 
.  "Depends  on  whether  they  were  oyster  crackers  or  ship  biscuit!" 
grunted  a  member. 

"Gentlemen,  I  ate  five  Boston  crackers  one  after  the  other,"  said 
the  Chief.  "And  I  never  drank  a  drop  of  water  till  after  I'd  finished 
the  last  one." 

"Huh,  that  ain't  much!"  sneered  Tommy — that  is,  to  say,  lagoo. 
"I  could  eat  a  pound  this  minute." 

"Gentlemen,  we'll  see  just  how  many  he  can  eat,"  the  Chief  re- 
marked. 

Tommy  looked  a  bit  anxious,  but  kept  still.  The  Chief  leaped  the 
fence  into  his  father's  garden  and  disappeared  through  the  woodshed 
door.  He  returned  with  a  pair  of  scales  in  one  hand  and  a  bag  of 
crackers  in  the  other. 

A  pound  of  crackers  was  weighed  out  by  the  Council.  Tommy 
was  seated  in  the  midst  of  the  circle,  and  the  test  beg^. 

The  first  cracker  was  swallowed  at  a  mouthful.  The  second  was 
gone  almost  as  soon.  By  the  time  he  started  on  the  third  Tommy  was 
ready  to  chew  it.  He  ate  the  fourth  more  slowly,  and  by  the  time  he 
had  begun  on  the  fifth  dry  cracker  he  could  only  nibble  at  the  edge. 

The  Council  winked,  then  laughed. 

"Gentlemen,  give  him  a  chance!"  remonstrated  the  Chief. 

Spurred  on  by  the  behavior  of  the  Council,  Tonrniy  persisted  until 
he  had  eaten  the  ninth  cracker.  But  at  that  point  he  could  not  manage 
another  mouthful. 

There  were  five  crackers  still  in  the  bag. 

At  a  signal  from  the  Chief,  Tommy  was  silently  tied  to  an  oak  a 
few  feet  distant. 

After  a  period  of  silence  the  Chief  rose  and  again  disappeared 
through  his  father's  woodshed  door.  This  time  he  brought  bade  a  pad 
and  his  rubber  stamp  alphabet. 

The  Council  looked  on  while  he  spelled  out  several  words.  Then 
he  read  them. 

"This  is  TOMMY  CRACKERS.  He  said  he  could  eat  a  pound 
of  dry  crackers.     He  carries  in  the  bag  the  five  he  could  not  eat/' 

This  inscription  the  Chief  mounted  on  a  pasteboard  sign. 

On  the  bag  with  the  five  crackers  in  it,  he  printed  three  words. 
"Please  I^ok  In  !" 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  135 

Tommy  was  ordered  by  the  Chief  to  wear  the  sign  and  carry  the 
bag  wherever  he  went,  for  a  week,  and  no  order  given  out  in  solemn 
Council  could  be  disobeyed  by  a  member  of  the  Tomahawk. 

It  was  a  long  week,  and  by  the  end  of  it  Tommy  Crackers  had 
earned  his  permanent  name. 

The  Tomahawk  Club  has  long  since  disbanded,  but  in  Quakertown 
Tommy  is  still  called  "Tommy  Crackers."  He  is  "cured,"  for  he  firmly 
believes  that  boasting  is  a  mistake. 

QUEER  COMRADES. 

By  L.  M,  Oglevee. 

Such  a  poor,  thin,  little  kitten  as  it  was,  huddled  in  a  small,  furry 
bunch  on  the  sidewalk.  A  crowd  of  boys  came  noisily  down  the  street, 
and  up  jumped  the  kitten  and  off  she  ran.  As  soon  as  the  boys  saw 
her,  they  began  to  run  after  her,  shouting  with  laughter  to  see  her  trying 
to  make  her  thin  wabbly  little  legs  take  her  to  some  safe  place.  On 
she  ran,  getting  more  frightened  every  minute,  and  not  seeing  at  all 
where  she  was  going,  only  trying  to  get  away  from  the  noisy  boys  be- 
hind her.  Across  the  street,  into  the  park  she  ran,  and  in  a  minute 
more,  splash  she  went  into  the  water  of  the  lily  pond. 

Near  the  pond  on  the  grass  sat  a  lady,  and  beside  her,  almost 
asleep,  lay  her  big  dog.  Rex.  Rex  woke  up  very  quickly  when  he  heard 
the  splash,  and  almost  before  you  could  think  he  was  in  the  pond,  too, 
and  then  he  came  out  with  a  wet,  frightened  kitten  in  his  mouth.  He 
put  the  kitten  down  on  the  grass  in  front  of  the  lady,  and  then  shook 
his  big  self  to  get  the  water  out  of  his  hair. 

**Good  Rex !"  said  the  lady.  She  tried  as  well  as  she  could  to  dry 
the  kitten's  fur,  and  the  kitten  made  no  attempt  to  run  away.  At  last 
it  was  time  for  the  lady  to  go  home.  "Come,  Rex,"  she  said,  we  must 
go;  and  perhaps  the  kitten  can  find  its  way  home  now  that  the  boys 
are  gone.  Come  on.  Rex,  we  cannot  stay  any  longer ;  it  is  getting  late 
and  we  really  should  have  gone  before.     Come,  now,  like  a  good  dog." 

Rex,  however,  would  not  go.  Very  politely  but  firmly  he  stood 
beside  the  kitten,  wagging  his  tail  and  looking  first  at  the  lady  and  then 
at  the  kitten.  Even  when  the  lady  started  to  go  away  and  leave  him 
he  still  stayed,  although  he  looked  very  sorry  to  see  her  go. 

In  a  minute,  she  came  back.  "Well,  Rex,"  she  said,  "there  seems 
to  be  only  one  way  to  get  you  to  go  with  me."  So  wrapping  up  the 
kitten  in  her  handkerchief  she  carried  it  home,  Rex  triumphantly  walk- 
ing behind. 

Good  care  and  plenty  of  fresh  milk  soon  changed  the  thin  little 
kitten  into  the  fattest,  most  playful  little  kitten  that  you  could  imagine. 
She  and  Rex  were  the  best  friends,  romping  and  rolling  about  on  the 
grass,  and  having  all  sorts  of  fun  together. 

By  and  by  the  kitten  grew  into  a  fine,  big  cat,  but  she  never  g^ew 
too  big  not  to  think  that  Rex  was  her  very  best  friend,  and  the  finest, 
bravest  dog  in  the  world. 


136  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

I  HE  LITTLE  BOY  WHO  TRIED  TO  HELP. 

By  Frances  Margaret  Fox, 

Every  time  the  neighbors  drove  by  Grandpa  Brown's  melon  patch 
they  shook  their  heads  and  said,  "Too  bad."  There  was  nothing  wrong 
with  the  melons.  No  one  in  the  country  ever  raised  a  better  crop; 
round  watermelons  and  long  watermelons,  covering  five  acres. 

"The  trouble  is/'  Grandpa  Brown  explained  to  little  John,  "there's 
no  market.  You  can't  give  them  away.  Seems  as  if  every  farmer  in 
the  county  planted  melons  this  year.  The  grocery  stores  won't  take 
them.     Last  season  it  was  diflFerent.     Melons  scarce  and  prices  high.'' 

*'Too  bad,"  sympathized  little  John,  echoing  the  sentiments  of  the 
community. 

Everyone  respected  Grandpa  Brown.  He  was  a  good  man,  a  kind 
neighbor,  always  did  what  was  right  so  far  as  he  knew,  and  he  made  it 
his  business  to  know  what  was  right. 

"I  can't  believe,"  said  Grandpa  Brown  to  Grandma  Brown,  "I  can't 
believe  that  crop  of  fine  melons  is  going  to  waste." 

**But  it  is,"  commented  little  John,  as  he  trudged  toward  home,  "it 
is,  because  my  father  says  so.    Too  bad." 

Three  days  later  Grandma  Brown  asked  little  John  over  the  tele- 
phone if  he  would  do  an  errand  for  Grandpa  Brown. 

"Yes,  a  big  yes,"  answered  the  child. 

"Then  let  me  speak  to  your  mother,  please,"  continued  Grandma 
Brown. 

This  is  what  little  John  heard  his  mother  say  between  pauses :  "Oh. 
good."  "Oh,  if  my  husband  were  only  home  instead  of  wav  out  West." 
"To  be  sure."  "A  fair  price?"  "Well,  well,  well!"  "Yes?"  "No. 
oh,  no."  "Possibly."  "Yes,  I  will  send  John  right  over."  "Indeed 
you  did !"     "He  will  be  so  glad,"  etc. 

Little  John  was  relieved  when  his  mother  hung  up  the  receiver  and 
stopped  nodding  and  smiling  at  the  telephone. 

"Is  it  something  about  watermelons  ?"  he  inquired. 

"Yes,  dear.  If  he  can  get  his  melons  to  the  freight  house  before 
six  o'clock  this  afternoon  he  can  sell  his  entire  crop.  Mr.  Evans,  the 
commission  agent  down  town,  has  an  order  for  all  the  melons  he  can 
get,  if  they  are  at  the  station  in  time  to  be  delivered  in  the  city  tomorrow 
morning.     There  is  a  sudden  demand  for  melons." 

"Why,  mamma.  Grandpa  Brown  can't  take  more  than  seven  loads 
to  town  in  one  day,  if  he  started  yesterday  and  works  all  tomorrow. 
The  thing  can't  be  done." 

"Possibly  it  may  if  you  help  him." 
Little  John  laughed.     He  knew  his  mother  was  poking  fun  at  him 
because  he  so  often  tried  to  help  dear  Grandpa  Brown. 

"What  errand  do  they  want  me  foi  ?"  he  asked.  * 

"You  are  to  go  to  Isaac  Underbill's  and  ask  if  one  of  the  Underbill 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  137 

• 

boys  can  be  spared  for  the  day  with  a  wagon  and  pair  of  horses.  From 
there,  they  wish  you  to  call  at  Mr.  Burton's — Mr.  Sam  Burton's — and 
ask  if  he  can  come  over  with  a  wagon,  too.  Grandma  Brown  says  they 
will  call  up  as  many  of  their  friends  as  possible  over  the  telephone." 

"Oh,  if  everyone  will  help  a  little,"  exclaimed  the  boy,  "the  thing 
can  be  done.     Good-bye,  mother." 

"Good-bye,  my  son." 

An  hour  later  little  John  returned. 

"What  luck?"  asked  his  mother. 

"No  luck  at  all,"  grumbled  the  child.  "Worst  neighbors  I  ever 
saw.  Every  one  of  'em  too  busy  to  help  Grandpa  Brown,  everyone 
'cept  Mr.  William  White  and  Mr.  Green,  and  honestly,  mamma,  they 
were  the  really  busiest  of  any.  Both  those  men  said  they'd  let  their 
work  go  and  turn  in  and  help  the  old  gentleman.  So  three  loads  of 
melons  are  on  their  way  to  town,  and  I  came  home  for  my  little  wagon !" 
'Your  little  wagon,  child?" 

'Yes,  sir — ^ma'am — ^yes,  mamma!  Every  melon  counts,  and  I'm 
going  to  haul  as  many  loads  to  town  as  I  can.  Til  be  worth  about  one 
cat  power,  but  Til  help !" 

Mother  could  hardly  keep  her  face  straight,  although  she  managed 
not  to  smile  in  the  face  of  such  earnestness.  Truth  is,  she  didn't  feel 
like  smiling  when  her  small  boy  went  trudging  by  in  the  hot  sun  with 
six  melons  in  his  express  wagon. 

"Poor  little  fellow,"  said  she,  "he'll  be  so  tired!" 

Ezra  Mason,  who  was  working  in  a  field  near  the  town  road,  tried 
to  be  funny  when  the  boy  pas;sed  his  farm. 

"You're  a-goin'  to  help  save  the  nation,  hey.  Bub?"  he  inquired. 
Afterward  Ezra  wished  he  had  kept  still ;  it  made  him  feel  uticomfort- 
able  to  think  that  he  hadn't  given  Grandpa  Brown  help  for  at  least  half 
a  day.  "The  little  feller  is  right,"  he  commented.  "If  we'd  all  turn  in 
and  help  much  as  possible  we'd  make  that  melon  patch  look  sick.  I 
swanny,  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  be  beat  by  no  such  little  chap.  I'm  a-goin'  to 
hitch  up  my  team  and  join  the  procession !"     And  he  did. 

"Hey,  there;  where  you  going?"  inquired  Mr.  Underbill  of  the 
small  boy. 

"Taking  a  load  of  melons  to  market  for  Grandpa  Brown,"  was 
the  repjy. 

"Why !  Can't  he  get  help  enough  to  market  them  ?"  inquired  the 
man. 

"No,  everyone  said,  'Too  bad !'  but  they're  all  too  busy." 

"Well,  there  now,  that's  a  shame!  Look  herp,  Johnnie,  you  tell 
Grandpa  that  I  believe  I  can  spare  one  of  my  boys  and  a  team  for  a 
day  after  all.     I'll  send  him  right  over."     And  he  did. 

By  the  time  little  John  reached  town  his  dusty  face  was  streaked 
with  wee  rivers  ^of  perspiration,  but  his  smile  was  a  joy.  He  realized, 
with  triumph  in  his  heart,  that  example  is  a  powerful  thing.  He  rode 
home  on  Mr.  Lane's  milk  wagon. 

Tears  to  me,  my  lad,"  remarked  Grandpa  Brown  some  time  later. 


«<>! 


138  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

*'it  'pears  to  me  that  you  don't  need  to  make  another  trip  to  town,  con- 
sidering that  the  neighbors  have  kept  the  telephone  busy  since  they 
saw  you  with  your  little  red  wagon.  Result  is  so  many  teams  have 
come  to  our  assistance  you  better  stay  right  here  to  superintend  the 
loading  !*' 

"What  a  joke !"  exclaimed  the  boy  who  tried  to  help. 

Grandma  Brown  invited  little  John  and  his  mother  to  tea  that 
night,  and  she  would  give  the  child  two  pieces  of  custard  pie ;  hers  were 
the  deep  kind. 

'*I'd  like  to  hire  neighbor  John  by  the  year,"  remarked  Grandpa 
Brown.     "Best  man  on  the  farm  today." 

"Couldn't  spare  him,"  was  mother's  laughing  response.  "He 
always  tries  to  help,  and  you  know  such  a  boy  counts  in  a  family." 

"If  I  don't  know  it,  my  melon  patch  does,"  acknowledged  Grandpa. 
"Not  a  ripe  melon  under  the  stars  tonight,  thanks  to  our  little  man  and 
his  small  express  wagon." 


WHEN  WE  PLANT  A  TREE. 

When  we  plant  a  tree,  we  are  doing  what  we  can  to  make  our  planet 
a  more  wholesome  and  happier  dwelling  place  for  those  who  come  after 
us,  if  not  for  ourselves.  As  you  drop  the  seed,  as  you  plant  the  sapling, 
your  left  hand  hardly  knows  what  your  right  hand  is  doing.  But 
nature  knows,  and  in  time  the  power  that  sees  and  works  in  secret  will 
reward  you  openly.  You  have  been  warned  against  hiding  your  talent 
in  a  napkin;  but  your  talent  takes  the  form  of  a  maple  key  or  an 
acorn,  and  if  your  napkin  is  a  shred  of  the  apron  that  covers  "the  lap 
of  the  earth,"  you  may  hide  it  there  unblamed ;  and  when  you  render 
in  your  account,  you  will  find  that  your  deposit  has  been  drawing 
compound  interest  all  the  time.  I  have  written  many  verses,  but  the 
best  poems  I  have  produced  are  the  trees  I  planted  on  the  hillside 
which  overlooks  the  broad  meadows,  scalloped  and  rounded  at  their 
edges  by  loops  of  the  sinuous  Housatonic.  Nature  finds  rhymes  for 
them  in  the  recurring  measures  of  the  seasons.  Winter  strips  them 
of  their  ornaments,  and  gives  them,  as  it  were,  in  prose  translation, 
and  summer  re-clothes  them  in  all  the  splendid  phrases  of  their  leafy 
language — O.  W.  Holmes. 


jp§B  mM' 


iplSE 


aby  Claire  does  not  care 
How  the  March  wind 
blows  her  hair. 
She  does  not  know 
her  mama  peeps 
^^^Into  nooks  where  ba- 
by creeps, 
Where  sometimes  she  plays  and  sleeps. 
Mama  looks  through  all  to  see 
If  by  chance  a  bug  or  bee 
May  be  there  hid  in  the  dirt, 
And  may  bite  or  sting  or  hurt: 
Hurt  her  dear,  sweet  baby  Claire 
Who  is  brave  and  does  not  care, 
Does  not  think  what  may  be  there 
That  may  bite  or  sting  or  scare, 
hi  the  year  months  March  counts  three. 
Father  in  heaven  guard  baby  and  me. 

— L.  L.  Greene  Richards. 


140  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 


AN  UNEXPECTED  PEACEMAKER. 

Ida,  Grace  and  Muriel  were  neighbors,  their  birthdays  came  the 
same  month,  they  were  almost  the  same  size,  and  they  were  together 
nearly  all  the  time.  Generally  they  agreed  happily;  but  one  morning 
on  their  way  to  school  they  had  a  dreadful  quarrel,  and  the  three  littie 
tongues  said  some  very  naughty  things. 

"I'll  never  speak  to  you  again  so  long  as  I  live!"  said  Muriel  to 
Ida. 

"Nobody  wants  you  to!"  retorted  Ida,  pouting  her  pretty  lips. 

"Fm  not  going  to  'sociate  with  either  of  you  any  more!"  spoke 
up  Grace,  tossing  her  curls  defiantly. 

So  they  went  on  toward  the  schoolhouse,  Muriel  ahead,  then  Grace, 
and  lastly  Ida. 

At  recess  the  three  little  girls  kept  widely  apart.  If  one  of  .them 
happened  to  meet  the  eyes  of  either  of  the  others  she  turned  quickly 
away. 

Before  school  was  dismissed  the  teacher  asked  Ida,  Muriel  and 
Grace  to  remain.  They  all  looked  dismayed!  Could  she  have  heard 
about  the  quarrel?  But  from  her  first  words  they  felt  that  she  knew 
nothing  of  it. 

"There  will  be  some  visitors  here  tomorrow  afternoon,"  she  said, 
"and  I  want  you  three  to  speak  a  short  dialogue  in  rhyme.  It  is  very 
easy,  and  you  can  learn  it  quickly." 

Then  how  red  grew  the  faces  of  those  foolish  little  girls !  Muriel 
looked  down  at  the  floor.  Grace  stared  poutingly  at  the  picture  over 
Miss  Macy's  desk.    Only  Ida  spoke. 

"Shall  we  have  to  talk  to  each  other  in  the — ^the  di — alogue  ?"  she 
hesitated. 

"The  dialogue,"  corrected  the  teacher.  "Why,  yes,  of  course,  you 
speak  the  words  to  one  another,  but  you  won't  find  it  hard  at  all." 

"Oh,  no*m,"  Ida  replied,  "only  we — we  can't  do  that,  'cause,  you 
see,  we  promised  this  morning,  we  wouldn't  speak  to  each  other,  and 
so  we  can't." 

"Promised  whom?"  asked  Miss  Macy. 

"Why — we — we  just  said  it — ^to  each  other — when  we  were  coming 
to  school." 

"Oh,  I  see!"  responded  Miss  Macy,  quietly.  "You  mean  you  had 
a  quarrel." 

"Yes'm,"  nodded  Ida,  and  hung  her  head  a  little. 

"Oh,  well,"  went  on  the  teacher,  "that  needn't  make  any  difference! 
You  can  talk  to  one  another  in  the  dialogue. '  I  will  read  it  to  you,  so 
you  can  see  how  it  goes." 

Ida,  Grace,  and  Muriel  walked  home  separately.  It  was  not  a  bit 
pleasant.  Yesterday  how  they  would  have  chattered  about  the  piece 
they  were  to  speak! 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  141 

They  stayed  after  school  to  be  drilled  in  the  rhymes. 

"Don't  look  at  the  floor,"  said  Miss  Macy  to  Muriel.  "Look 
straight  at  Ida." 

So  the  two  pairs  of  eyes  had  to  meet,  and  Muriel  had  to  say  the 
funny  lines — and,  before  they  knew  it,  both  little  prls  were  laughing! 

After  that  the  recitation  went  on  merrily,  and,  what  do  you  think? 
All  the  way  home  the  three  friends  walked  arm  in  arm,  their  tongues 
going  as  fast  as  they  could  fly ! 


HELPFUL  FRIENDS. 

Mabel  and  Frank  are  a  brother  and  a  sister  who  have  a  good  uncle. 
Of  all  the  uncles  in  the  world  they  think  their  Uncle  Frank  is  the  best. 
He  does  not  live  in  the  same  city  as  they  do,  but  every  year  he  comes 
to  see  them.  When  he  comes  they  have  good  times,  for  he  takes  them 
on  the  cars  and  to  the  stores ;  he  takes  them  to  the  menagerie  to  see  the 
animals  and  to  every  sort  of  good  place  where  boys  and  girls  like  to 
go.  Besides  taking  them  upon  all  these  pleasant  trips,  he  does  other 
things  for  them.  Oftentimes  there  are  in  Uncle  Frank's  pockets  bright 
silver  pieces  of  money  which  find  their  way  into  the  children's  tiny 
pocketbooks. 

One  morning  Mabel  and  Frank  were  about  to  start  for  school. 
Uncle  Frank  took  from  his  pocket  two  ten-cent  pieces  and  gave  one  to 
each  child,  saying,  "You  may  buy  some  candy,  children."  They  thanked 
him  and  hurried  away.  They  stopped  at  the  home  of  their  little  friend 
Anna.  Anna's  mother  told  them  that  Anna  had  been  ill  and  the  doctor 
had  said  that  she  must  be  very  careful.  As  mother  kissed  her  little 
daughter  goodby,  she  said,  "Remember  what  mother  told  you  about 
eating  anything  sweet,  dear." 

Mabel  and  Frank  had  intended  to  share  their  candy  with  their 
little  friend.  They  had  thought  that  they  could  hardly  wait  till  they 
reached  the  candy  store.  As  they  turned  the  comer  Mabel  took  hold 
of  her  brother's  hand  and  pulled  him  toward  her.  Very  softly  she 
whispered  in  his  ear:  "Our  candy  will  make  Anna  sick.  Let  us  not 
buy  it  today."  Frank  whispered  back,  "All  right;"  then  they  joined 
Anna  again. 

It  was  hard  for  them  to  wait  for  their  candy,  as  any  boy  or  girl 
who  likes  candy  knows.  They  knew,  however,  that  Anna,  too,  liked 
sweet  things.  They  knew  that  if  they  ate  their  candy,  it  would  be 
harder  for  Anna  to  obey  her  mother. 

Soon  they  reached  the  store,  but  as  they  passed  by  they  did  not 
even  look  through  the  windows  where  the  trays  of  candy  were 
placed. — Selected. 


142  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

WHERE  THEY  MET  THE  THREE  SISTERS. 

By  H.  M.  R. 

"Get  your  hats,  childicn,  and  we  will  take  a  walk  to  see  if  the 
'Three  Sisters'  have  arrived  in  town;  they  are  due  about  this  time," 
sang  out  Aunt  Betty  from  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

"Ye-s,  Aunt  Betty,  we  are  coming!"  three  high-pitched  voices  an- 
swered in  a  chorus.  And  instantly  three  pairs  of  noisy  little  feet  came 
racing  down  the  stairs. 

"Where  do  they  live,  Aunt  Betty?  Where  do  the  Three  Sisters' 
live?*'  cried  Polly  who  was  ahead. 

**Well,  I  think  today  we  shall  be  apt  to  find  them  cuddled  under 
the  trees  in  Lyman's  woods,"  laughed  Aunt  Betty  pinching  Polly's 
rosy  cheek. 

"O-o-o-ee !"  snickered  Toodles,  the  roly-poly  of  the  flock,  turning 
a  sumersault  in  his  delight.  "What  a  funny  place  to  find  three  little 
girls!     If  they  are  sisters,  of  course,  they  are  girls!" 

Toodles'  voice  had  a  disgusted  tone;  for,  to  tell  the  truth,  he 
would  prefer  to  meet  three  little  boys  like  himself. 

"I  shall  have  to  disappoint  you,  Toodles,  and  perhaps  the  girls, 
also,  by  confessing  that  these  Three  Sisters'  are  only  three  little 
flowers  so  much  alike  that  I  have  ventured  to  call  them  'Sisters,' "  an- 
swered Aunt  Betty. 

"Oh !"  in  a  rather  crestfallen  tone  from  three  disappointed  voices. 

Then  Alice,  who  before  had  ventured  out  in  the  woods  with  Aunt 
Betty  ventured  the  question,  '*Are  they  flower  sisters,  auntie?" 

**Yes,  dear;  they  are  three  little  flower  sisters  that  come  to  the 
Woods  very  early  in  the  spring.  I  hope  we  shall  not  be  too  early  to  find 
them,"  replied  Aunt  Betty. 

"What  are  their  names?"  asked  Toodles.  Nothing  had  much  in- 
terest for  him  that  hadn't  a  name. 

"The  most  familiar  of  the  sisters  is  the  Wind  Flower.  Some  call 
her  Anemone ;  and  I  have  heard  her  called  Snowdrop.  And  here  she 
is,  hiding  under  the  dry  leaves  in  her  little,  pink  hood." 

Aunt  Betty  stooped  to  pick  the  flower  when  Alice's  gentle  hand  re- 
strained her. 

"Our  teachers  say  we  ought  not  to  pick  the  flowers  unless  there 
are  a  lot  of  them,"  she  remonstrated. 

'"Then  we  will  leave'  this  little  lady  until  she  has  a  iew  more  com- 
panions around  her.  By  that  time  she  will  be  wearing  a  broadrimmed 
vyhite  hat  instead  of  this  close,  little,  pink  hood,"  Aunt  Betty  assented 
cooing:  on  to  another  tree. 

"Ah !  Here  is  little  Rue  Anemone!    I  thought  we  should  find  her! 
she  exclaimed,  suddenly  stooping  to  a  plant  very  similar  to  the  other  but 
bearing  its  blossoms  in  clusters.     "Look  closely,  and  you  will  notice 
a  difference  between  the  leaves  of  these  sister  flowers,"  Aunt  Betty 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  143 

observed,  as  the  children  stooped  to  examine  them.  "Those  of  the 
Wind  Flowers  are  divided  into  many  delicate  leaflets,  somewhat  point- 
ed ;  while  Rue  Anemone's  leaves  are  blunter  and  more  rounded." 

"Fve  found  the  other  sister!  I've  found  the  other  sister!  I  know 
I  have !"  cried  Polly  who  had  thrown  herself  down  at  the  foot  of  an- 
other tree  and  was  pawing  among  the  dry  leaves. 

All  rushed  over  to  examine  Polly's  find;  but  it  was  Aunt  Betty 
alone  who  could  name  it. 

"Ah,  yes!  This  is  little  Star  Flower,  sure  enough!"  she  said. 
"Notice  how  pointed  the  petals  are ;  like  the  points  of  a  star.  The 
leaves,  also,  are  thin  and  pointed,  without  any  leaflets. 

"I  have  called  these  flowers  the  'Three  Sisters'  because  they  are 
so  similar  in  appearance.  But  this  little  Star  Flower  really  belongs  to 
the  Primrose  family,  while  the  other  two  are  Crowfoots,"  Aunt  Betty 
explained. 

"We  might  call  the  Star  Flower  an  adopted  sister,"  suggested 
Alice. 

"Yes :  and  there  is  still  another  blossom  that  is  often  found  grow- 
ing near  the  Star  Flower,  and  which  very  closely  resembles  it ;  the  only 
difference  being  in  the  shape  of  the  petals,  which  are  round,  instead 
of  star-shaped ; — ^the  wild  strawberry  blossom, — another  adopted  sister, 
perhaps  Alice  would  call  it,"  Aunt  Betty  said  with  a  merry  nod. 

After  they  had  rambled  throught  the  woods  for  an  hour,  they 
found  so  many  of  the  delicate  white  blossoms  peeping  up  from"  among 
their  protecting  foliage  that  Aunt  Betty  suggested  carrying  several  of 
them  home  to  study  them  more  closely. 

Alice  proposed  that  they  should  press  a  sprig  of  each  on  their 
flower  book,  to  help  them  remember  the  difference  in  their  shapes. 

Toodles  astonished  them  all  by  the  assertion  that  he  wouldn't  have 
to  do  all  that  to  help  him  remember  them ;  and  then  he  ran  off  to  find 
one  of  each,  all  by  himself,  he  insisted.  When  he  came  back  with,  them 
grasped  tightly  in  his  chubby  hand,  and  described  each  flower  just  as 
Aunt  Betty  had  done,  she  called  him  her  champion  botanist. 

The  children  had  enjoyed  their  introduction  to  the  "Three  Sisters" 
so  much,  Aunt  Betty  promised  to  introduce  them  to  some  more  of  her 
flov/er  friends  as  the  season  advanced. 

"It  is  as  good  as  a  game,  Aunt  Betty,"  Polly  declared. 

"Yes ;  for  it  is  a  game  from  which  you  learn  something  new  every 
time  you  play  it,"  was  Aunt  Betty's  laughing  answer. 


THE  RIGHT  SIDE. 


A  little  girl  was  quietly  walking  with  her  father  one  night.  At 
last,  looking  up  at  the  starry  sky,  she  said :  "Father,  I  have  been  think- 
ing that  if  the  wrong  side  of  heaven  is  so  beautiful,  what  will  the  righl 
side  be  ?" — ^Jewels. 


144  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

THE  MORNING-GLORY  REFORMATION. 

By  L,  P.  McAroy. 

Maggie  and  Mollie  were  happy  and  contented  most  of  the  time, 
though  you  would  have  wondered  how  they  could  be  if  you  had  seen 
their  home,  and  the  way  they  lived.  It  was  in  the  coal-mining  country; 
and  unless  you  have  been  there  sometime,  you  cannot  imagine  how  dirty 
and  grimy  everything  is!  The  houses,  trees,  fences  and  even  the  blades 
of  grass,  are  covered  with  greasy,  black  soot,  and  if  you  should  pick 
some  of  the  daisies  that  grow  on  the  hillsides  your  hands  would  be  as 
black  as  if  you  had  picked  up  a  lump  of  coal. 

One  March  day  they  had  taken  their  father's  dinner  down  to  him 
and  were  climbing  u|)  the  hill  with  the  empty  bucket.  They  stopped 
to  look  in  at  the  window  of  the  little  store,  as  they  passed.  Their 
ragged  skirts  flapped  in  the  cold  March  wind,  and  they  both  had  to  keep 
hopping  from  one  foot  to  the  other,  for  the  stones  were  dreadfully  cold 
to  their  bare  toes  that  peeped  through  the  holes  in  their  ragged  shoes. 
But  the  window  was  more  interesting  than  usual  to-day,  for  in  it  stood 
the  most  surprising  thing — b,  box  of  flower  seeds  in  their  gay,  pictured 
packages. 

"What  are  those  things?"  asked  Mollie. 

"F-1-o-w-e-r  s-e-e-d-s,"  spelled  Maggie  slowly.  "To  make 
gardens." 

"I  wish  we  could  buy  some,"  said  Mollie  wistfully. 

" What'd  we  do  with  them  ?"  demanded  Maggie  scornfully.  Molly 
couldn't  answer  but  she  still  looked  longingly  at  the  gaudily  pictured 
pansies  and  phlox,  and  at  the  gjeat  purple  morning-glory,  the  gaudiest 
one  of  them  all. 

The  storekeeper's  wife,  standing  just  inside  the  door,  saw  the 
wistful  little  face  and  heard  the  wistful  little  voice,  and  a  sudden 
kindly  impulse  made  htx  open  the  door  and  ask  the  two  ragged  little 
things  to  come  in.  Used  to  being  caught  in  mischief,  they  both  started 
to  run,  but  stopped,  reassured  by  the  pleasant  voice,  and  in  the  end 
they  accepted  the  invitation  and  went  in.  The  wonderful  box  was 
turned  round  so  that  they  could  see,  but  not  once  did  the  grimy  little 
fingers  offer  to  touch  the  dainty  envelopes. 

"Which  is  the  prettiest?"  asked  the  storekeeper's  wife. 

"This  one !"  said  two  voices  at  once  as  two  fingers  pointed  to  the 
morning-glory. 

"You  may  have  that  if  you  want  it,"  she  said. 

"Sure?"  whispered  Mollie  incredulously. 

"Sure."  said  her  new  friend  smiling,  and  handing  her  the  precious 
package.  They  had  never  learned  to  say,  "Thank  you,"  but  their  shin- 
ing eyes  said  what  their  lips  could  not  as  they  ran  off  with  their  treasure. 

Tn  a  near-by  shed  they  sat  down  to  examine  their  gift.  Carefully 
tearing  open  the  end  they  peeped  in  at  the  little,  black  seeds.     "These 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  145 

won't  make  flowers  like  that  picture/'  cried  MolHe,  her  eyes  filling  with 
tears. 

"We'll  plant  them  and  see,"  said  Maggie.  "Come  on,"  and  away 
they  ran. 

At  home  they  found  the  other  children  all  out  in  the  yard.  "Don't 
let's  tell  them,"  whispered  Mollie  who  was  afraid  that  the  boys  would 
take  away  the  seeds. 

Maggie  was  wiser  and  said :  "Yes,  let's  tell  them.  Then  we'll  let 
them  help  plant  them  and  they  won't  pull  them  up  when  they  grow," 

Never  did  one  common  little  packet  of  flower  seeds  excite  greater 
interest  than  did  that  one  in  that  group  of  ragged  children.  Some  one 
sometime  had  had  a  flower  bed  under  one  of  the  windows,  and  the 
earth  there  was  still  soft  aiid  easy  to  dig.  With  sticks  and  rusty  spoons 
the  children  dug  a  row  of  little  holes  in  this  soft  earth  and  in  them  they 
put  the  seeds  and  carefully  covered  them  up. 

The  next  day  as  they  passed  the  store  their  new  friend  stood  in  the 
doorway,  and  Mollie  found  courage  to  say  bashfully,  "We  planted  the 
seeds." 

"Did  you?"  said  the  lady  smiling.     "That's  nice." 

After  that  they  often  stopped  to  talk  a  minute  as  they  passed,  and 
one  day  she  asked,  "Do  you  ever  go  to  Sunday  School  ?" 

Both  little  girls  shook  their  heads  and  Maggie  said,  "We  ain't  got  . 
no  clothes  fit  to  go  in." 

"If  you'll  come  to  my  house  tomorrow  afternoon  and  bring  the 
other  children,  I'll  see  that  you  get  some  clothes  fit  to  go  in,"'  said  the 
lady. 

She  was  afraid  they  wouldn't  come,  but  they  did,  rags,  dirt  and  all. 
A  number  of  her  friends  had  sent  in  a  generous  supply  of  clean  whole 
garments  that  their  own  children  had  outgrown,  and  soon  each  ragged 
little  visitor  was  the  proud  possessor  of  a  complete  suit  of  neat  clothes 
for  Sunday.  Maggie  and  Mollie  promised  to  see  that  they  were  all 
neatly  washed  and  had  their  hair  combed,  and  then  away  they  all 
marched  with  their  bundles. 

Sabbath  school  was  a  wonderful  place  to  them  that  first  day.  It 
was  nearing  Easter,  and  the  children  were  learning  Easter  songs  and 
talking  of  the  marvelous  awakening  that  is  taking  place  at  that  happy 
time,  and  it  was  all  very  new  and  strange  to  the  ears  that  were  hearing 
it  that  day  for  the  first  time. 

Day  by  day  the  spring  sun  shone,  warm  rains  fell,  and  by  and  by 
the  morning-glory  seeds  sprouted  and  began  pushing  their  green  heads 
up  through  the  earth  to  the  children's  great  delight.  The  boys  picked 
up  all  the  sticks  and  stones  that  were  near  the  flower  bed,  and  the  girls 
washed  the  window  above  it.  Then,  of  course,  the  room  had  to  be  made 
tidy,  for  when  people  looked  at  the  vines  climbing  over  the  clean  win- 
dow, it  would  spoil  it  all  if  they  saw  inside  such  a  dreadfully  dirty  room. 

So  it  went  on  until  even  the  father  and  mother  began  trying  to 
make  the  home  better  and  happier.  And  it  all  began  with  a  tiny  packet 
of  morning-glory  seeds. 


146  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

A  CHANGE  OF  MIND. 

BY   MINNA  STANWOOD. 

"Jane,"  spoke  Aunt  AUegra  Marble,  from  the  sitting-room  door, 
"have  you  tidied  up  your  room  yet?" 

Jane  was  curled  up  in  a  corner  of  the  deep  sofa,  weaving  into  a 
wonderful  diamond  and  sapphire  necklace  the  beads  that  Uncle  Luman 
Marble  had  brought  her  from  the  big  city  Saturday  night. 

"I  don't  see  why  that  room  has  to  be  tidied  the  first  thing  every 
morning,"  Jane  replied  pettishly.  "I  was  going  to  do  it  in  just  a 
minute.     Tm  tired  to  death  of  being  tidy." 

Aunt  AUegra  stood  for  a  minute,  then  she  said  gravely,  "When 
your  room  is  tidied,  you  may  come  to  your  uncle's  study." 

Jane  looked  up,  startled,  but  Aunt  AUegra  walked  away.  Jane 
rattled  her  beads  into  the  box  and  ran  upstairs.  "I  don't  care,"  she 
sputtered,  as  she  put  her  Sunday  hat  into  its  box  and  folded  her  gloves 
and  ribbons  and  put  them  into  the  drawer.  "Aunt  Allegra's  a  slave 
to  neatness !" 

When  Jane  entered  the  study.  Uncle  Luman  rose  and  placed  a 
chair  for  her  as  politely  as  if  she  had  been  the  richest  parishioner  in 
the  land.     That  was  Uncle  Luman's  way. 

"Jane,"  he  said  kindly,  "how  would  you  like  to  go  and  spend  the 
rest  of  the  winter  at  your  cousin  Jonas  Benedict's?" 

Jane  smiled  delightedly,  "Oh,"  she  cried,  "I  never  went  visiting  m 
all  my  life.     But,"  she  hesitated,  "I  don't  know  any  of  them." 

"They  are  very  easy  to  become  acquainted  with,"  assured  Aunt 
AUegra  gjavely.  "I  stayed  overnight  when  I  attended  Grandmother 
Benedict's  funeral,  and  I  know  they  are  not  at  all  stiflf  in  their  manners. 
They  have  invited  you,  and  I  have  written  that  you  will  go  Wednesday 
morning.  Neither  your  uncle  nor  I  can  go  with  you,  but  Meredith  is  a 
short  journey,  and  your  cousin  Henry  will  meet  you  at  the  station." 

Jane  gave  a  little  hop  in  her  chair.  "Oh,  my,  but  I  shaU  feel  g^own 
up,"  she  said.  "Angie  Blair's  going  to  have  a  party,  and  so  is  Fannie 
Chester,  but  not  any  of  the  girls  are  going  away." 

"Very  well,"  said  Aunt  AUegra.  Then  she  rose,  and  Uncle  Luman 
rose  and  held  the  door  open  for  the  ladies.  That  was  Uncle  Luman's 
way. 

Wednesday  morning.  Uncle  Luman  went  to  the  station  with  Jane. 
As  the  train  rushed  in,  he  took  her  hand  and  said  soberly :  "Grood-by, 
dear  little  niece.  I  hope  you  will  enjoy  yourself."  Then  he  kissed 
Jane,  and  helped  her  up  the  steps.  He  even  carried  her  suit  case  to 
her  seat. 

When  Jane  stepped  from  the  train  at  Meredith,  she  felt  so  small 
and  strange  that  she  wished  she  had  not  been  so  ready  to  come  alone. 
The  next  instant,  somebody  snatched  her  suit  case,  and  screeched,  "Hi 
there,"  in  her  ear.  She  gave  a  little  scream  of  fright,  and  turned  to 
look  into  the  grinning  face  of  a  tall,  frowzy-headed  boy. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  147 

"Oh,"  she  gasped,  ^'are  you  Henry?" 

"Sure,"  nodded  the  boy.  "The  girls  said  I  wouldn't  know  you, 
but  I  said  I  would.     Come  along  to  the  car." 

"Meredith's  a  large  city,"  observed  Jane  politely,  when  they  were 
seated  in  the  trolley  car." 

"No,  it  isn't,"  promptly  contradicted  Henry.  "It's  nothing  but  a 
box.    New  York  is  the  city  for  me." 

A  big,  dirty,  noisy  city,  it  seemed  to  Jane,  and  she  drew  a  breath 
of  relief  when  the  car  began  to  skim  along  road-sides  studded  with 
trees,  and  past  houses  with  tiny  front  yards.  They  looked  like  doll 
houses  to  Jane,  who  was  used  to  an  old-fashioned  country  town. 

They  left  the  car  in  front  of  one  of  the  shabbiest  houses.  Henry 
kicked  open  the  one-hinged  gate  and  went  stamping  up  the  path  'with 
an  ear-splitting,  "Hi,  hi,  there!"  From  out  of  the  house  and  around 
the  house  rushed  children,-  and  they  fell  upon  Jane  with  demonstrations 
of  affection. 

"Bring  her  g^ip  into  the  house,  Henry,"  commanded  the  biggest 
girl. 

The  second-sized  girl  took  Jane  kindly  by  the  arm  and  helped  her 
over  the  broken  doorstep.  The  girl  had  wistful,  gray  eyes,  and  her 
sailor  suit  was  comparatively  clean.     Jane  took  to  her  at  once. 

"Come  into  the  parlor,"  invited  the  biggest  girl  cheerfully.  "Sit 
down.  Oh,  all  the  chairs  are  full,  aren't  they?  You  see,  we  haven't 
got  arotmd  to  tidying  up  yet.  Never  mind,  you  can't  be  very  tired 
after  sitting  in  the  car.'  Now,  we're  all  going  to  be  introduced.  My 
name's  Chris.  I  should  think  you'd  abominate  such  a  prim,  old-fash- 
ioned name  as  Jane." 

"I  do,"  confessed  Jane  shyly.  "I  wish  my  name  had  been  Virginia." 

"Virginia  Marble,"  giggled  Henry.  "Superior  to  Vermont  granite, 
hey?" 

Jane  blushed  painfully.  She  had  never  thought  of  that,  and  started 
to  say  so  when  the  second-sized  girl  turned  sharply  upon  Henry.  "You 
talk  too  much,"  she  declared. 

"While  you're  here,  you  shall  be  Virginia,"  exclaimed  Chris  cor- 
dially. "And  Jinny  for  short.  Now,  to  proceed,  as  my  teacher  says. 
She's  Nettie,  he's  Bud,  she's  Lily,  he's  Lem,  she's  Fanny.  You  met 
Henry.  Now,  we  all  know  each  other.  We're  free  and  easy.  Jinny. 
Come  and  go  as  we  please.  Have  not  regular  meal  times.  Any  day 
we  don't  feel  like  combing  our  hair,  we  don't  comb  it.  We're  all  dressed 
up  in  your  honor  tocjay,  that's  why  we  look  so  fine." 

Jane  surveyed  the  unkempt  crowd  doubtfully.  "You're  very  kind," 
she  stammered,  smiling,  and  inclining  her  head  in  unconscious  imita- 
tion of  Aunt  Allegra's  old-time  courtesy. 

Bud  giggled,  but  Nettie  turned  on  him  fiercely.  "It's  a  pity  you 
haven't  some  manners,"  she  remarked.  "I  suppose  you're  hung^, 
aren't  you,  Jinny?" 

Jane  brightened.       "I'm  afraid  so,"  she  admitted.       "But  don't 


148  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

let  me  trouble  you,"  she  added  hastily,  when  she  saw  the  look  of 
dismay  on  Chris's  face. 

Chris  rose  to  the  occasion.  "Now,  Fll  tell  you,"  she  confessed 
gayly.  "We  haven't  a  thing  in  the  house  just  this  minute,  but  we'll 
have  a  regular  dinner  this  noon,  on  your  account.  Lem,  you  run  down 
to  the  store  and  get  some  bread,  a  piece  of  steak  and  two  lemon  pies. 
Tell  them  to  charge  it,  and  we'll  pay  when  mother  comes  home.  Mother 
was  awfully  sorry  to  be  away  when  you  came,  Jinny,  but  she  felt  one 
of  her  attacks  coming  on,  and  she  hurried  right  over  to  Aunt  Nell's," 
Chris  explained. 

Just  then  Nettie  seized  Jane's  suit  case,  and  said :  "Come  upstairs, 
Jinny.  You're  to  have  Grandmother  Benedict's  room.  It's  the 
cleanest." 

Standing  in  the  cleanest  room,  Jane  wondered  what  the  other  rooms 
could  be  like.     But  all  the  other  doors  were  discreetly  jclosed. 

"I  suppose  everything's  just  as  clean  as  this  at  Aunt  Marble's," 
said  Nettie  wistfully. 

Jane  hesitated.  She  had  always  been  a  quick-spoken  little  thing, 
and  often  her  words  hurt  the  other  girls  like  a  whip.  But  now  she 
hesitated,  looking  at  her  cousin  Nettie  with  a  gjeat  pity  shining  in  her 
eyes.  "It's  very  clean  and — and  dear  at  Aunt  Allegra's,"  she  said. 
Then  she  choked,  and  ran  forward  and  flung  her  face  into  Grand- 
mother Benedict's  ill-made  feather  bed. 

"O  Jinny,"  begged  Nettie,  "don't  cry.  You're  homesick,  but  you'll 
like  it  better  tomorrow." 

Jane  heard  the  babble  below,  the  laughing,  singing,  quarreling, 
calling,  and  she  shivered. 

"You're  cold,"  exclaimed  Nettie.  "I  was  afraid  you  would  be. 
The  furnace  fire's  out,  and  Henry  won't  build  it.  We're  used  to  it  now, 
because  it's  been  out  most  of  the  winter.  There,  that's  better,  she 
smiled,  as  Jane  stood  up  and  wiped  her  eyes  determinedly.  "You  see," 
she  explained,  "we  children  have  to  get  along  the  best  we  can.  Father 
has  to  be  out  West  because  he's  in  the  mining  business,  but  we  have  to 
live  here  on  account  of  mother's  heart.  She  can't  stand  the  climate  out 
there.  We  miss  father  terribly" — Nettie  stopped.  There  was  a  sud- 
den, violent  hubbub  downstairs.  "Oh,"  she  laughed,  "they're  making 
believe  to  ring  the  dinner  bell.     Come  on  down." 

But  the  call  to  dinner  proved  to  be  premature.  Just  as  Chris  set 
the  steak  on  the  stove,  the  fire  decided  to  go  out.  Then  what  a  time! 
Amid  much  laughter  and  good-natured  scolding  the  fire  was  rebuilt, 
and  after  a  while,  they  all  sat  down  at  the  kitchen  table,  because  the 
dining-room  table  had  not  been  cleared  of  yesterday's  dishes. 

Accustomed  to  abundant,  well-served  meals,  Jane  could  scarcely 
crowd  down  the  dry  bread  and  half-cooked  steak,  and  she  rose  from 
the  table  feeling  queer  and  half  sick.  While  the  others  discussed  the 
pros  and  cons  of  washing  the  soiled  dishes,  Jane  slipped  out  to  the 
front  hall,  where  she  had  spied  a  broom  and  dustpan,  and  ran  up  to  her 
room.     She  swept  and  dusted,  reassured  by  the  babel  of  voices  down- 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  149 

stairs  and  the  clatter  of  crockery.  They  had  decided  to  wash  the  dishes, 
and  they  would  be  some  time  about  it,  thought  Jane.  But  whether 
they  discovered  her  or  not,  of  one  thing  she  was  certain.  She  could 
never,  never,  sleep  even  one  night  in  Grandmother  Benedict's  clean 
room.  She  was  putting  on  the  finishing  touches,  when  she  heard  the 
babel  coming  nearer,  calling  her  new  name.  "Ji^^^y*  Jinny,"  was 
screeched  and  tooted.  Then  they  flung  themselves  upon  the  stairs. 
Jane  struck  her  hands  together,  as  if  she  were  about  to  be  caught  in  a 
very  dishonest  act.  She  hurried  to  the  door  to  meet  them,  her  eyes 
full  of  fright  and  pleading. 

"Oh!"  Chris  looked  round,  amazed.  "She's  been  cleaning  up. 
It  looks  exactly  as  grandmother  used  to  have  it,  even  to  the  'Days-in- 
the-Year'  quilt  folded  at  the  foot  of  the  bed.  Think  of  cleaning  up 
when  they  didn't  have  to !"  Chris  groaned,  then  all  the  rest  groaned — 
all  but  Nettie. 

They  played  games  all  the  afternoon,  and  made  some  very  leathery 
griddlecakes  for  supper,  and  Jane  tried  to  enjoy  herself.  She  passed  a 
troubled  night,  and  woke  the  next  morning  with  a  sore  throat,  red 
cheeks,  and  startlingly  bright  eyes.  They  all  exclaimed  on  seeing  her 
when  she  went  downstairs. 

But  Jane  was  not  sorry.  She  looked  round  at  the  seven  frowsy 
hesA  and  smiled.  "I  think  I'm  going  to  have  one  of  my  sore  throats," 
she  said,  swallowing  hard.  "I'd  better  go  straight  home,  and  not  get 
sick  on  your  hands." 

They  were  very  kind  and  sorry,  and  hurried  to  get  breakfast  of 
baker's  bread  and  dreadful,  barley  coffee.  Chris  and  Nettie  went  with 
her  to  the  station.  They  stayed  until  the  last  minute,  smiling,  and  wav- 
ing their  hands  from  the  platform.  They  were  very  kind-hearted  girls, 
thought  Jane,  as  she  sank  back  in  her  seat  with  a  little  sigh  of  content, 
and  some  time  she  would  ask  Aunt  AUegra  to  invite  them  to  Hollis. 

The  face  of  the  old  town  was  radiant  with  sunshine.  Jane  left  her 
suit  case  at  the  station  and  hurried  along  the  wide,  main  street  until 
she  came  to  the  big,  yellow  house.  The  front  door  was  unlocked  as 
usual,  and  Jane  ran  straight  into  Uncle  Luman's  study. 

"Why,  why,"  cried  Uncle  Luman,  in  alarm,  twisting  round  in  his 
chair,  and  peering  anxiously  over  his  spectacles.  "How's  this  ?  How's 
this?" 

Jane  tried  hard  to  keep  back  the  tears,  but  she  couldn't.  Uncle 
Luman  jumped  up  and  went  to  call  Aunt  Allegra; 

For  some  reason  or  other,  Aunt  Allegra  did  not  look  astonished, 
and  she  smiled  at  Uncle  Luman,  although  Jane  did  not  know  it.  But 
she  did  know  that  Aunt  Allegra  kissed  her  very  tenderly. 

"Take  off  your  things,  Jane,"  said  Aunt  Allegra  kindly.  "You 
may  leave  them  in  the  sitting-room  for  this  once,  and  come  right  out 
and  have  dinner." 

Jane  breathed  a  great  sigh  of  happiness.  "Oh,"  she  said,  "I  felt 
awfully  sick,  but  I'm  better  now.  Aunt  Allegra,"  she  asked  solemnly, 
"isn't  is  beautiful  to  be  tidy?" 


if 
if 


150  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


LITTLE  CORNERS. 

Georgia  Willis,  who  helped  in  the  kitchen,  was  rubbing  the  knives. 
Somebody  had  been  careless  and  let  one  get  rusty,  but  Georgia  rubbed 
with  all  her  might ;  rubbed  and  sang  softly  a  little  song.  "In  the  world 
is  darkness,  so  we  must  shine,  you  in  your  little  comer,  and  I  in  mine." 

"What  do  you  rub  them  knives  forever  for?"  Mary  said.  Mary 
was  the  cook. 

"Because  they  are  in  my  comer,"  Georgia  said  brightly.  "  *You 
in  your  comer,  you  know,  and  I  in  mine.'  FlI  do  the  best  I  can,  that's 
all  I  can  do." 

"I  wouldn't  waste  my  strength,"  said  Mary.  "I  know  that  no  one 
will  notice." 

"The  Lord  will,"  said  Georgia,  and  then  she  sang  again.  "  *You 
in  your  little  corner,  and  I  in  mine."  ' 

"This  steak  is  in  my  comer,  I  suppose,"  said  Mary  to  herself.  "If 
that  child  must  do  what  she  can,  I  s'pose  I.  must.  If  he  knows  about 
knives,  it's  likely  he  does  about  steak,"  and  she  broiled  it  beautifully. 

'Mary,  the  steak  was  very  nicely  done  today,"  Miss  Emma  said. 
That's  all  along  of  Georgia,"  said  Mary,  with  a  pleased  red  face, 
and  then  she  told  about  the  knives. 

Miss  Emma  was  ironing  ruffles,  she  was  tired  and  warm.  "Helen 
will  not  care  whether  they  are  fluted  nicely  or  not,"  she  said ;  "I'll  hurry 
them  over ;"  but  after  she  heard  about  the  knives  she  did  her  best. 

"How  beautifully  my  dress  is  done,"  Helen  said,  and  Emma,  laugh- 
ing answered,  "that  is  owing  to  Georgia;"  then  she  told  about  the 
knives. 

"No,"  said  Helen  to  her  friend  who  urged  "I  really  cannot  go  this 
evening.    I  am  going  to  mutual-meeting ;  my  corner  is  there." 

"Your  corner!  what  do  you  mean?"  Then  Helen  told  about  the 
knives. 

"Well,"  the  friend  said,  "if  you  will  not  go  with  me,  perhaps  I 
will  go  with  you,"  and  they  went  to  the  mutual-meeting. 

"You  helped  us  ever  so  much  with  the  singing  this  evening."  That 
was  what  their  President  said  to  them  as  they  were  going  home.  "I 
was  afraid  you  wouldn't  be  there." 

"It  was  owing  to  our  Georgia,"  said  Helen,  "^he  seemed  to  think 
she  must  do  what  she  could,  if  it  were  only  knives."  Then  she  told 
her  the  story. 

"I  believe  I  will  go  in  here  again,"  said  the  President,  stopping 
before  a  poor  little  house.  "I  said  yesterday  there  was  no  use,  but  I 
must  do  what  I  can."'  In  the  house  a  sick  woman  was  lying;  again 
and  again  she  had  called,  but  to-night  she  said,  "I  have  to  tell  you 
a  little  story."  Then  she  told  her  about  Georgia  Willis,  about  her 
knives,  and  her  little  comer,  and  her  "doing  what  she  could,"  and  the 
sick  woman  wiped  the  tears  from  her  eyes  and  said,  "I'll  find  my  comer 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  151 

'too:  I'll  try  to  shine  for  Him."  And  the  sick  woman  was  Georgia's 
mother. 

"I  believe  I  won't  go  to  walk,"  said  Helen,  hesitating,  "I'll  finish 
that  dress  of  mother's ;  I  suppose  I  can  if  I  think  so." 

"Why,  child  you  here  sewing?"  her  mother  said;  "I  thought  you 
had  gone  to  walk?" 

"No  ma'am ;  this  dress  seemed  to  be  in  my  comer,  so  I  thought  I 
would  finish  it." 

"In  your  corner?"  her  mother  repeated  in  surprise,  and  then  Helen 
told  about  the  knives.  The  door-bell  rang,  and  the  mother  went 
thoughtfully  to  receive  her  Bishop.  "I  suppose  I  could  give  more," 
.she  said  to  herself,  as  she  slowly  took  out  the  ten  dollars  she  had  laid 
aside  for  the  ward.  "If  that  poor  child  in  the  kitchen  is  trying  to  do 
what  she  can,  I  wonder  if  I  am?    I'll  make  it  twenty-five." 

And  Georgia's  guardian  ange!  said  to  another  angel,  "Georgia 
Willis  gave  twenty-five,  dollars  to  help  pay  for  the  new  meeting  house 
to-day." 

"Twenty-five  dollars?"  said  the  other  angel.  "Why,  I  thought 
she  was  poor?" 

"Oh,  well,  she  thinks  she  is,  but  her  Father  in  Heaven  isn't,  you 
know.    She  did  what  she  could  and  He  did  the  rest." 

But  Georgia  knew  nothing  about  all  this,  and  the  next  morning 
she  brightened  her  knives  and  sang  cheerily : 

In  the  world^  darkness. 

So  we  must  shine. 
You  in  your  little  corner. 

And  I  in  Aiine," 


.    THE  CHICKEN-HOUSE  CARPENTER. 


152  •  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

A  CHANGE  OF  ATMOSPHERE. 

By  Hilda  Richmond. 

"Now,  John,  take  your  money  right  down  to  the  bank,"  admon- 
ished Aunt  Caroline.  "You  know  the  last  pay  day  you  put  oflF  going, 
and  in  two  days  ten  dollars  had  slipped  through  your  fingers.  A  boy 
should  have  enough  backbone  about  him  to  resist  temptation,  but  since 
you  haven't,  it  is  well  to  make  sure  by  putting  the  money  out  of  reach." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  added  John's  grandmother.  "Your  cousin  Fred 
had  two  hundred  dollars  laid  by  when  he  went  to  college  that  he  had 
earned  himself.  I  never  saw  a  more  industrious,  Enterprising  young 
man  than  Fred." 

John  had  heard  about  his  cousins  Fred  and  Robert  and  Hugh  until 
he  was  tired  of  their  names,  but  he  was  too  respectful  to  grumble  out- 
wardly. "I've  got  to  go  and  settle  some  little  accounts  first.  Aunt  Caro- 
line," he  explained,  with  his  hand  on  the  door  knob.  "I'll  leave  you 
five  dollars  to  put  in  the  bank  for  me." 

"Accounts!"  said  Aimt  Caroline,  explosively.  "John  Thomas 
Frisbie!    You  haven't  gone  in  debt  anywhere,  have  you?" 

"I  bought  a  few  candies  and  some  fruit  at  Brown's  one  evening, 
and  didn't  happen  to  have  any  money  with  me,"  said  John.  "And  I  bor- 
rowed a  dollar  of  Ned  Griswold  that  I  have  to  pay  back." 

"So  you  only  have  five  dollars  out  of  thirty-five  to  put  in  the  bank? 
John,  you  worry  me  exceedingly."  "\ 

But  John  was  whistling  down  the  street,  wishing  he  could  live  in  a 
boarding  house  like  Ned  Griswold,  itnd  not  be  tied  to  apron  strings. 
He  h^d  had  one  year  in  college  and  was  now  taking  a  year  of  practical 
work  in  a  machine  shop,  because  the  instructors  advised  the  work  along 
with  the  studies.  John  had  lived  an  easy-going  life  with  an  indulgent 
father  for  a  year  or  two  of  his  life,  had  had  several  years  at  boys'  schools, 
and  was  now  with  his  aunt  and  grandmother  for  the  year  before  he  was 
to  return  to  college.  His  mother  had  died  when  he  was  ten,  and  the 
life  he  had  led  ever  since  was  not  such  as  to  train  him  in  orderly  habits, 
so  his  two  relatives  plainly  announced  their  intentions  of  reforming  him 
as  soon  as  he  had  been  with  them  a  few  weeks. 

"That  boy  will  never  amount  to  anything,"  sighed  Mrs.  Frisbie, 
watching  him  idle  down  the  street.  "I  don't  see  what  John  could  have 
been  thinking  of  that  he  didn't  send  him  to  us  as  soon  as  the  home  was 
broken  up.  He  is  idle  and  careless  and  spends  his  money  recklessly. 
One  would  think  he  would  learn  wisdom  from  having  to  look  after  him- 
self at  school." 

"Not  when  he  has  a  father  to  send  him  money  every  time  he  asks 
for  it,"  said  Miss  Frisbie.  "John,  junior,  isn't  to  blame  at  all,  but  I'm 
going  to  reform  him  or  die  in  the  attempt.  He  must  learn  to  get  down 
to  breakfast  in  time,  and  brush  his  clothes,  and  keep  his  room  in  order, 
and  take  care  of  his  money,  or  I  shall  not  be  satisfied  with  my  year's 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  153 

work.    We  have  only  had  him  six  weeks,  mother,  so  there  is  no  tell- 
ing what  may  be  done  with  the  lad." 

But  alas  for  Aunt  Caroline's  plans !  In  just  two  weeks  Mrs.  Fris- 
bie  and  her  daughter  were  speeding  to  Colorado  with  their  son  and 
brother  in  search  of  a  better,  purer  atmosphere  f(jr  that  gentleman,  who 
had  suddenly  developed  a  case  of  lung  trouble  from  a  neglected  cold. 
If  Colorado  did  not  prove  suitable,  they  were  to  go  on  to  New  Mexico, 
and  there  they  would  stay  till  the  following  spring.  It  all  came  about 
so  suddenly  that  neither  lady  had  time  to  worry  much  about  John, 
junior,  who  had  to  be  sent  to  Cousin  Marcia  Prescott,  who  was  a  de- 
cidedly easy-going  person.  John  was  sorry  for  his  father,  but  he  wel- 
comed the  relief  from  the  staid  household,  with  its  clockwork  regula- 
tions, and  joyfully  fell  into  the  less  exacting  ways  of  the  Prescott  home. 
Mr.  Prescott  was  a  traveling  salesman  who  was  seldom  at  home,  so  his 
wife  kept  house  after  her  own  peculiar  fashion,  and  the  children  grew 
up  hit  or  miss,  as  Miss  Caroline  Griswold  expressed  it. 

"Isn't  breakfast  ready?"  asked  John,  stumbling  into  the  untidy 
dining  room  in  the  gray  dawn  of  the  November  morning  after  he  had 
been  with  Cousin  Marcia  a  week.  "Really,  Sarah,  I  think  you  might 
make  a  little  effort  to  have  something  cooked  for  me.  A  fellow  can't 
do  anything  on  cold  bread  and  butter.  Fve  stood  it  a  week  without 
grumbling,  but  Fve  got  to  have  something  hot." 

"If  youVe  in  such  a  hurry  you'd  better  cook  it  yourself,"  retorted 
the  slovenly  cook  from  the  smoky  kitchen.  "The  missus  didn't  tell  me 
she  was  goin'  to  take  boarders  when  I  came.  I  don't  like  this  havin' 
breakfast  before  daylight,  anyhow." 

John  sat  down  hastily  to  the  cold  bread  and  butter,  with  visions  of 
the  dainty  breakfast  table  at  Aunt  Caroline's  dancing  before  his  eyes. 
There  his  aunt  and  grandmother  had  called  him  time  and  again,  warn- 
ing him  that  the  last  whistle  would  soon  blow,  and  when  he  did  come 
down  they  were  ready  with  hot  steak,  toast,  cereal  and  cream,  poached 
eggs,  hot  cakes,  and  other  things  dear  to  the  heart  of  a  growing  boy. 
Now  he  had  to  depend  upoh  a  wheezy  alarm  clock  to  arouse  him,  and 
Sarah  to  set  out  bread  and  butter  on  the  cheerless  table  if  he  was  at 
work  on  time. 

"Where  is  my  cap.  Cousin  Marcia  ?"  asked  John  one  cold  evening 
as  he  was  about  to  set  out  to  take  his  soiled  clothes  to  the  laundry.  At 
hi»  other  Home  Aunt  Caroline  always  had  a  neat  bundle  ready  for  him 
every  Monday  evening,  if  he  failed  to  pick  up  his  things  for  the 
wagon's  rounds,  but  here  only  the  fact  that  he  had  but  one  clean  collar 
left  forced  him  to  remember  his  laundry.  "I  am  sure  I  put  it  on  the 
hall  rack  yesterday."  • 

"I  am  sure  I  don't  know,"  said  Mrs.  Prescott,  serenely.  "Maybe 
some  of  the  children  have  been  playing  with  it.  Baby  calls  it  his  kitty, 
and  he  may  have  been  climbing  up  to  the  rack.    The  little  scamp  often 

does  it." 

After  a  great  deal  of  scampering  about,  during  which  Mrs.  Pres- 
cott even  left  her  fancywork  to  feel  under  the  lounge  with  the  yard 


154  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Stick,  John  was  forced  to  go  out  into  the  storm  with  his  hat  instead 
of  the  cap.  His  muffler  and  gloves  were  also  missing,  so  he  stepped 
into  a  clothing  store  after  disposing  of  his  laundry  to  buy  some  new 
articles — a  plan  he  had  adopted  several  years  before. 

"Fm  sorry,  Mr.  Frisbie,"  said  the  clerk,  after  a  whispered  confer- 
ence with  the  proprietor,  'but  you  will  have  to  settle  your  account  with 
the  firm  before  any  more  goods  can  be  charged  to  you.  Perhaps  you 
have  only  overlooked  it,  but  we  sent  you  several  statements." 

"rU  settle  next  pay  day,  and  then  Fll  never  buy  a  cent's  worth  of 
you  again,"  said  John,  angrily,  for  one  of  the  men  who  worked  in  the 
machine  shops  was  listening.  "You  don't  need  to  worry  about  your 
money.    Fll  have  it  for  you." 

That  very  night  he  wrote  to  his  father  for  money,  and  thought 
he  would  pay  the  anxious  merchant  before  pay  day.  To  his  surprise, 
his  aunt  answered  the  letter,  saying  his  father  was  very  poorly  and  she 
had  not  bothered  him  with  the  letter.  She  and  Mrs.  Frisbie  attended 
to  all  business  matters,  for  the  doctor  had  advised  perfect  quiet.  She 
also  added  some  sound  advice  on  the  subject  of  spending  recklessly, 
and  admo;iished  him  to  take  care  of  himself,  as  his  cousins,  whom  she 
had  helped  to  bring  up,  had  always  been  able  to  live  within  their  sal- 
aries and  lay  by  some  money  besides.  A  boy  of  eighteen,  with  good 
health  and  a  good  place,  should  be  too  independent  to  ask  help  of  his 
father,  she  concluded,  and  her  angry  nephew  threw  the  letter  into  the 
sickly  fire  that  flickered  in  the  rusty  stove  in  his  room. 

"Fve  got  to  find  that  cap,"  he  said,  grimly,  "and  when  I  do  get  it 
it  goes  under  lock  and  key.  If  I  had  any  excuse,  Fd  move  up  to  Ned's 
and  have  peace.    I  never  saw  such  meddlesome  youngsters  in  my  life." 

It  was  eleven  o'clock  that  night  when  John  went  to  bed,  but  he 
had  made  a  partial  collection  of  his  garments  and  locked  them  into 
his  closet.  A  great  many  of  the  things  needed  buttons  and  mending, 
and  all  cried  loudly  for  pressing  and  brushing,  but  John  was  satisfied 
to  get  them  together.  The  fur  cap  was  much  the  worse  for  being  used 
as  a  plaything,  and  the  muffler  had  been  serving  as  a  wrap  for  one  of 
the  numerous  dolls  strewn  about  the  floor,  but  they  would  do  until  he 
could  buy  new  ones. 

Before  the  merchant  received  his  money  for  the  clothes,  now 
looking  so  forlorn,  the  candy  and  fruit  dealer  threatened  to  go  to  John's 
employers  and  report  him  if  some  money  was  not  forthcoming  at  once. 
John  was  obliged  to  go  humbly  to  the  merchant  and  tell  him  he  could 
only  pay  part  of  his  bill,  so  as  to  give  the  other  man  ten  dollars,  and 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  began  to  think  his  aunt  was  not  far 
from  right  when  she  said  the  man  in  debt  was  a  slave.  John  did  not 
realize  how  fixed  the  habit  of  stopping  for  some  fruit  or  candy  on  his 
way  to  work  after  a  poor  breakfast  had  become  until  he  saw  the  long 
list  of  items  on  the  slip  presented  by  the  fruit  dealer. 

"I  heard  somethin'  about  you  today,  John,"  said  Claude  Prescott, 
climbing  upon  his  cousin's  knee  one  evening  as  John  tried  to  read  in 
the  sitting  room.    His  own  apartment  was  so  untidy  and  cheerless  that 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  155 

he  could  not  bear  to  stay  in  it  only  to  sleep,  but  there  were  few  places 
to  go  after  working  hours.  "I  was  over  to  Joe  French's  and  the  girls 
was  talkin'  about  you." 

John  had  long  admired  Ethel  French,  so  he  was  all  attention, 
though  he  did  not  appear  so  before  Claude.  "What  did  they  say, 
sonny  T*  he  inquired,  carelessly. 

"Ethel  said  she'd  like  to  invite  you  to  her  part}'  next  week,  but 
your  clothes  always  looked  dreadful,"  said  the  little  tattletale.  "She 
said  she  used  to  think*  you  were  so  nice  and  tidy,  but  she  must  have 
been  mistaken." 

John  sat  perfectly  silent.  All  at  once  he  remembered  that  invita- 
tions had  been  few  and  far  between  since  the  pleasant  autumn  days 
when  nutting  frolics,  taffy  pullings,  and  gay  little  parties  had  been  the 
order  of  holidays  and  evenings.  So  they  had  been  having  just  as  many 
festivities  in  the  old  neighborhood  as  usual,  only  he  had  been  left  out. 

"Yes,  and  Maude  Overton  said  you  always  looked  as  if  you  slept 
in  your  clothes,"  went  on  Claude.  "I  had  a  notion  to  tell  her  you 
didn't,  but  Joe  and  I  were  too  busy  with  our  game.  We  don't  have 
much  to  do  with  the  big  girls,  anyway.  They're  awful  silly  and  can't 
play  no  games." 

Very  soon  Claude  deserted  him  and  he  went  upstairs  to  his  cold 
little  room.  The  dresser  was  strewn  with  burned  matches,  soiled  col- 
lars, paper  bags,  and  pins,  while  the  chairs  held  clothing  and  extra  bed- 
clothes. Mrs.  Prescott  boasted  that  she  never  had  a  bit  of  trouble  in 
keeping  help  in  her  house,  because  she  was  not  one  of  the  poison  neat 
kind,  and  allowed  the  maids  to  manage  the  work  in  their  own  way. 
Ill-natured  persons  were  apt  to  smile  knowingly  behind  Mrs.  Prescott-s 
back  when  this  statement  was  repeated,  but  nothing  eyer  disturbed  her 
serenity. 

"So  that  is  .what  Ethel  French  says  about  me !"  said  John,  bitterly. 
"I  suppose  she  prefers  that  starchy  James  Vincent  to  me.  Well,  let 
her,  if  clothes  are  anything  to  her.  My  clothes  suit  me  and  that  is  all 
that  'is  necessary." 

The  next  day  the  river  rose  with  a  February  freshet  and  the  ma- 
chine shops  were  forced  to  close  down  on  account  of  the  high  water. 
The  unexpected  holiday  was  not  welcome  to  John,  who  was  tr)dng  to 
pay  his  debts,  but  since  he  could  not  work  he  determined  to  spend  a 
little  time  at  the  public  library  to  help  pass  a  long  day  and  get  away 
from  the  untidy  house. 

"I  don't  know  that  Ethel  was  very  far  wrong,"  he  mused  as  he 
put  on  the  wrinkled  suit  and  dingy-looking  shoes  that  were  his  best. 
"If  I  could  spare  the  cash,  Fd  have  a  shine  and  some  new  collars. 
Those  things  help  out  wonderfully."  But  with  only  a  little  money  in 
his  pocket  and  the  prospect  of  being  out  of  work  a  few  days,  he  could 
not  see  his  way  clear  to  spend  even  that  small  amount.  He  polished 
his  shoes  a  little  with  a  wet  rag  and  trimmed  the  rough  edge  oflF  his 
collar  before  setting. pi^,, but  he  was  far  from  satisfied  with  the  result. 


156  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

Instead  of  going  down  the  main  street  he  kept  to  the  deserted  ones  and 
congratulated  himself  that  no  one  would  know  him. 

"Why,  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Frisbie!"  said  a  familiar  voice  as  a 
pony  cart  stopped  close  to  the  sidewalk.  "I  wonder  if  you  would  mind 
aslcing  the  man  in  that  little  shop  to  step  out  here  a  minute.  I  prom- 
ised Joe  I  would  bring  his  pony  down  to  see  about  its  shoes,  and  he 
hasn't  any  hitching  post.' 

John  looked  anything  but  pleased  as  he  saw  Ethel  French  in  the 
pony  cart,  but  he  could  not  refuse  and  hurried  into  the  shop.  "He'll  be 
out  in  a  few  minutes,"  he  said,  hurriedly,  and  went  down  the  street, 
glad  to  get  away. 

"John  is  getting  as  grumpy  as  he  is  shabby,"  said  Miss  French 
aloud,  as  she  watched  him  disappear  around  the  first  comer.  "I  won- 
der if  he  is  getting  in  with  bad  company.  Father  says  any  young  man 
ought  to  save  money  on  a  salary  of  fifty  dollars  a  month,  but  John 
looks  positively  shabby." 

Ten  minutes  later  John  met  James  Vincent,  who  was  also  having 
a  holiday,  and  his  cup  of  bitterness  was  filled  to  over-flowing.  James 
was  wearing  a  trim  suit  and  a  neat  overcoat,  while  his  shoes  were 
polished  to  the  last  degree.  He  smiled  pleasantly  at  John,  but  that 
young  gentleman  muttered  a  "Good  morning,"  and  passed  on  with  a 
face  like  a  thunder  cloud. 

"Want  a  job?"  asked  a  man  a  few  blocks  down  the  street.  "I've 
got  to  get  my  potatoes  and  stuff  out  of  this  cellar.  If  the  water  banks 
up  much  more  I'll  lose  several  hundred  dollars.  I'll  pay  you  three 
dollars  a  day,  beginning  this  minute,"  he  added,  as  he  saw  John  hesi- 
tate.   "Pitch  right  in,  can't  you  ?" 

"I'd  have  to  go  home  and  change  my  clothes,"  said  John. 

"Nonsense !  Carrying  up  potatoes  won't  hurt  that  suit.  I'll  give 
you  a  pair  of  overalls  to  work  in.  It  will  be  an  awful  big  help  to  me, 
young  man.  You  don't  want  to  see  me  lost  my  stuff,  and  it  looks  like 
rain  every  minute." 

So  John  worked  like  a  beaver  all  that  day  and  the  next,  rejoicing 
over  the  money  that  enabled  him  to  pay  the  last  cent  of  his  indebted- 
ness. He  was  even  able  to  rejoice  over  his  freedom,  as  he  passed  the 
French  home  with  the  receipts  in  his  pocket,  though  the  young  people 
were  hurrying  out  of  the  snowstorm  into  the  lighted  parlor  and  he  had 
not  been  invited.  He  was  determined  to  keep  out  of  debt  and  take 
care  of  himself  in  spite  of  everything,  and  the  resolution  comforted 
him  greatly. 

"Why,  John,"  cried  three  voices  together,  as  Mr.  Frisbie  and  his 
mother  and  sister  were  greeted  at  the  station  by  John  after  their  win- 
ter's absence  in  the  west,  "how  well  you  look !" 

"Do  I?"  asked  John,  quietly,  but  his  voice  betrayed  his  pride.    He 
.  was  standing  there  in  his  well-fitting,  well-brushed  clothes,  looking  veiy 
unlike  the  young  fellow  they  had  left  in  the  fall.    "You  are  all  looking 
well,  too.    I  am  very  glad,  father,  to  see  you  so  well  and  strong." 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  157 

'It  was  the  change  in  atmosphere  that  was  the  making  of  me,"  said 
Mr.  Frisbie.     "Aren't  you  working  today,  John?" 

"No,  we  are  having  a  holiday  because  of  an  accident  to  the  ma- 
chinery, so  I  could  come  to  meet  you.  I  will  help  you  home  with  your 
things,  and  after  dinner  a  party  of  young  people  will  go  to  Riverby  for 
the  rest  of  the  day.  I  hope  you  won't  mind  my  running  away  this  first 
day,  for  Ethel  French  and  I  had  planned  the  picnic  before  I  knew  you 
were  coming." 

"Go,  by  all  means,"  said  his  father  and  aunt,  quickly.  "We  can 
see  you  before  and  after  the  picnic.  John,  how  very  much  you  have 
improved !' 


A  HUMBLE  TEACHER. 

American  boys  would  doubtless  consider  it  very  funny  to  watch  a 
little  Chinese  lad  when  first  he  is  taken  to  school  by  his  father  and  pre- 
sented to  the  teacher.  A  writer  in  Home  Words  gives  a  graphic  de- 
scription of  the  performance  as  follows : 

The  Chinaman  arrives  at  the  school,  he  and  the  teacher  shake  their 
own  hands  and  bow  profoundly;  then  the  latter  asks,  "What  is  your 
honorable  name?" 

"My  mean,  insignificant  name  is  Wong,"  is  the  answer. 

Tea  is  sent  for,  and  the  teacher  says,  "Please  use  tea."  The  father 
sips  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  he  says  to  the  teacher,  "What  is 
your  honorable  name?" 

"My  mean,  insignificant  name  is  Pott." 

"How  many  little  stems  have  you  sprouted?"  (This  means  "How 
old  are  you?") 

"I  have  vainly  spent  thirty  years.' 

"How  many  precious  little  ones  have  you?' 

"I  have  two  little  dogs."    (These  are  the  teacher's  own  children.) 

"How  many  children  have  you  in  your  illustrious  institution  ?" 

"I  have  a  hundred  little  brothers." 

Then  the  Chinaman  comes  to  business. 

"Venerable  master,"  he  says,  "I  have  brought  my  little  dog  here, 
and  worshipfuUy  intrust  him  to  your  charge." 

The  little  fellow,  who  has  been  standing  in  the  corner  of  the  room, 
comes  forward  at  this,  kneels  before  the  teacher,  and  knocks  his  head 
on  the  floor.  The  teacher  raises  him  up  and  sends  him  off  to  school, 
while  arrangements  are  being  made  for  his  sleeping  room  and  so  forth. 

At  last  the  father  rises  to  take  his  leave,  saying,  "I  have  tormented 
you  exceedingly  today,"  to  which  the  teacher  responds,  "Oh,  no,  I  have 
dishonored  you." 

As  he  goes  toward  the  door  he  keeps  saying,  "I  am  gone,  I  am 
gone;"  and  etiquette  requires  the  teacher  to  repeat,  as  long  as  he  is 
in  hearing,  "Go  slowly,  go  slowly." — Selected. 


JUST  FOR  FUN. 

I 

TONGUE-TWISTERS. 

Following  are  some  sentences  which  when 
pronounced  rapidly  will  afford  lots  of  amuse- 
ment: 

Six  thick  thistle  sticks. 
Flesh  of  freshly  fried  flying  fish. 
The  sea  ceaseth,  but  it  sufficeth  us. 
Big  black  bear  caught  a  big  black  bug. 
Give  Grimes  Jim's  great  gilt  gigwhip. 
Two  toads  totally  tired  tried  to  trot  to 
Tedbury, 

Strict,  strong  Stephen  Stringer  snared 
slickly  six  sickly  silky  snakes. 

She  stood  at  the  door  of  Mrs.  Smith's  fish- 
sauce  shop  welcoming  him  in. 
Swan  swam  over  the  sea.     Swim,  swan,  swim !     Swan  swam  back 
again.     Well,  swum,  swan! 

Peter  Piper  picked  a  peck  of  pickled  peppers.  Where  is  the  peck 
of  pickled  peppers  Peter  Piper  picked. 

Susan  shineth  shoes  and  socks ;  socks  and  shoes  shine  Susan.  She 
ceaseth  shining  shoes  and  socks,  for  socks  and  shoes  shock  Susan.  ' 

As  two  little  girls  were  eating  their  lunch,  one  said:  "I  wonder 
what  part  of  an  animal  a  chop  is.     Is  it  the  leg?" 

"Of  course  not,"  said  the  other;  "it's  the  Jaw-bone.  Haven't  you 
ever  heard  of  animals  licking  their  chops?" — Christian  Advocate. 

GOOD  MEMORY  ( ?) 

Teacher  (in  spelling  class) ;    "Johnny,  spell  'fail.'  " 
Johnny:    "I  can't." 

Teacher:     "You  can't  spell  that  simple  word?    Why  not?" 
Johnny:     "  'Cause  you  said  there  was  no  such  word  as  'fail.' " — 
New  Yorker, 

Katie,  the  romping  six-year-old,  came  dancing  and  singing  into 
the  parlor.  Then,  seeing  a  strange  caller,  she  stopped,  abashed.  "This 
is  my  little  daughter,"  said  her  mother.  "Katie,  this  is  Mrs.  Bag^." 
"How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Baggs?"  said  Katie,  anxious  to  remove  aiiy  un- 
favorable impression  the  visitor  might  have  formed.  "I  know  a  little 
girl  at  school  named  Saxe.     Is  she  any  relation  of  yours  ?" 

During  Harold's  first  day  at  the  kindergarten  the  room  became 
cool,  and  the  teacher  sent  him  to  find  out  if  any  heat  was  coming  in  at 
the  register.  "Yes,  teacher."  said  Harold,  as  he  spread  his  tiny  hands 
to  the  draft,  "there's  lot's  of  heat  coming  in,  but  it's  all  cold." 


OFFICERS'  DEPARTMENT 


LOWLY  BUT  INSPIRING. 

BY  BERTHA  G.  CHEDELL. 

Mine  may  not  be  the  shining  of  the  sun, 

Lighting  the  pathway  of  great  worlds  afar ; 
No  more  the  moon's  full  light  when  day  is  done 

Nor  yet  the  golden  twinkling  of  a  star. 
But  if  a  glow-worm's  soft  and  steady  light 

Be  only  mine  to  give  in  sweet  content — 
A  tiny  glow-worm's  shining  in  the  night — 

To  break  the  gloom  for  some  poor  pilgrim  sent ; 
Perchance  in  ways  Time's  saintly  feet  have  trod, 

I  still  may  lead  some  soul  to  heaven  and  God. 

Mine  may  not  be  the  beauty  of  the  rose, 

Fragrant  and  fresh  with  morning's  dewy  balm. 
Nor  orange  blossom's  pure  as  falling  snows, 

And  sweA  as  ever  strain  of  wedding  psalms ; 
But  if  in  lowliness  my  whole  life  through 

A  lily  of  the  valley  1  may  be — 
A  lily  of  the  valley  to  a  few — 

In  some  spring  hour  of  gladness  drawn  to  me, 
I  still  may  hope  through  God's  good  will  and  grace 

To  woo  some  soul  to  seek  and  find  his  face. 

I  am  what  God  has  made  me,  and  I  know 

I  have  a  place  and  time,  a  work  and  way. 
So  with  a  happy  heart  I  would  bestow 

My  humble  need  of  blessing  while  I  may. 
Content  each  golden  day  to  find  my  place. 

Do  well  my  work,  and  mark  my  way  with  love. 
To  be  what  God  would  have  me,  by  His  grace 

Serenely  climbing  to  the  hills  above. 
And  there  as  His  great  blessing,  I  shall  see 

Crowned  ones,  won  to  their  crowning  by  my  plea. 


160  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


THE  PRIMARY  TEACHERS  COURSE. 

Much  interest  is  manifested  in  the  Six  Weeks  Course  of  Study 
which  is  in  process  of  arrangement  by  the  General  Board.  The  popular 
sentiment  Expressed  is  that  ;io  stake  can  afford  to  miss  the  proffered 
opportunity,  and  that  the  benefit  to  be  derived  from  the  systematic 
preparation  that  will  be  required  from  each  pupil,  is  inestimable.  Every 
sister  who  receives  the  honor  of  appointment  should  come  prepared  to 
devote  her  whole  time  to  study,  in  order  that  she  may  intelligently  im- 
part and  adapt,  according  to  the  needs  of  her  particular  locality,  the 
instructions  received.  Special  attention  will  be  given  by  instructors 
to  the  needs  of  the  Primary  Association,  and  this  fact  should  be  borne 
in  mind  when  reading  over  the  general  headings  for  each  department 
in  the  Course.  Individual  practical  demonstration  will  be  required  as 
far  as  circumstances  permit,  and  every  effort  put  forth  to  strengthen 
and  develop  the  Primary  teacher.  During  the  season  lectures  will  be 
given  by  prominent  educators  on  subjects  relating  to  the  work  in  the 
class,  and  visits  to  the  many  places  of  interest  in  and  about  Salt  Lake 
City  will  be  under  the  direction  of  Counselor  Clara  W.  Beebee.  Sister 
Zina  Y.  Card,  who  has  been  appointed  matron,  will  be  pleased  to  exer- 
cise guardianship  over  all  who  desire  to  place  themselves  under  her 
care.  One  of  the  greatest  opportunities  ever  given  for  the  advance- 
ment of  our  work  is  now  before  us,  and  it  is  hoped  that  as  many  as 
possible  from  each  stake  will  take  advantage  of  it. 

Six  subjects  will  be  taken  up:  Lesson  Development,  Stories  and 
Story  Telling,  Physical  Training,  Music,  Domestic  Science,  and  Hand- 
work. 

Among  other  points  that  may  come  up  for  consideration  the  fol- 
lowing phases  of  each  subject  will  be  treated 

Lesson  Development,  Edith  Hunter  in  charge.  The  aim  of  the 
Primary  Association,  the  lesson  how  to  realize  it.  The  meaning  and 
need  of  preparation.  Introduction  of  new  lesson.  The  art  of  question- 
ing, Reading  of  text  and  gathering  of  material,  Choosing  the  aim, 
subject  matter  or  grouping,  value  of,  etc..  Illustration  enforcement. 
Divisions  and  applications,  How  to  prepare  a  lesson.  The  presentation 
of  the  lesson,  How  to  conduct  the  social  hour,  How  to  conduct  the  busy 
hour.  How  to  conduct  the  story  hour,  practical  demonstrations  on  all 
phases  of  lesson  giving. 

Stories  and  Story  Telling,  Frances  K,  Thomasson  in  charge.  Pur- 
pose of  the  Story  in  our  Primary  Association,  The  Story:  What  is  it? 
Stories  True  and  False,  The  Moral  Story,  The  Fairy  Tale — good  and 
bad.  Pioneer  Stories — Hero  Tales,  Children  Story  Writers,  How  to 
Tell  Stories,  How  to  Read  Stories,  Dramatizing  Stories,  The  Fable 
and  the  Parable,  Bible  Stories,  Book  of  Mormon  Stories,  Biography, 
Animal  Stories,  Nursery  Stories  and  Story  Books. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  161 

Physical  Training,  Anna  Nebeker  in  charge.  General  Gymnastics 
(leaders  personal  benefit),  Swedish,  German,  American,  Jigs,  Games. 
Lectures — ^Anthropometry,  Hygiene,  Sanitation,  First  Aid  to  the  In- 
jured. Play — nature,  function,  and  administration  of,  methods  of 
teaching,  administration  and  methods ;  Camp  Management,  demonstra- 
tion,, character  of,  how  to  plan.  Dancing — folk  and  social.  Games, 
Laboratory  work.  Observation,  Group  tasks. 

Music,  Emma  Ramsey  Morris  in  charge.  Necessity  of  an  aim  in 
our  songs  and  music.  How  to  raise  the  standard  of  music  in  the  Pri- 
mary Association.  Correlating  the  music  with  the  lesson  work.  How 
to  study  the  words  with  their  spiritual  meaning.  How  to  teach  the 
melody,  the  words.  How  to  practice  part  singing.  How  to  express 
the  spirit  of  the  song.  Value  of  motion  songs  and  rest  exercises.  The 
March;  its  application  to  the  Primary  work;  how  to  select  and  play 
them;  value  of  patriotic  songs,  preliminary  nlusic,  the  unskilled  chor- 
ister, practical  demonstration  of  marches,  march  songs,  general  assem- 
bly singing,  preliminary  music,  folk  songs,  motion  songs,  etc. 

Domestic  Science,  Margaret  Hull  in  charge.  Value  of  Domestic 
Science ;  food  classes  apd  their  uses ;  food  value,  composition,  cooling, 
souring  of,  etc.  Sanitation,  study  of  cereals  and  ways  of  cooking; 
study  of  cocoa,  flours  and  baking  powders ;  study  of  vegetables ;  com- 
bination of  different  foods,  bread,  cakes ;  study  of  meat  and  fish ;  salads ; 
ethics  of  health ;  care  of  the  sick  in  the  home,  etc.  Aim :  To  give  such 
work  and  in  such  a  way  that  teachers  may  see  how  to  apply  it  to  the 
lessons  in  Domestic  Science  in  the  Primary  Association. 

Handwork,  Laura  Foster  in  charge.  Paper-f olding ;  cardboard 
work ;  carpentry  in  boxes  and  simple  wood- forms ;  string  and  spool 
work ;  weaving ;  sewing ;  crocheting ;  raflia  and  reeds ;  and  basketry. 

Word  should  be  sent  at  once  to  the  General  Board  of  Primary 
Associations,  stating  the  number  to  be  sent  from  each  stake,  as  not  all 
stakes  have  been  heard  from;  also,  information  as  to  whether  rooms, 
room  and  board,  or  light  housekeeping  rooms,  are  desired. 

Class  work  will  begin  April  7,  1913,  continuing  for  six  weeks. 
Pupils  may  register  April  4th  and  Sth,  in  the  General  Board  office 
itioms.    . 

REPORT  FROM  RECORD  CARDS. 

J 

Presidents'  Secretaries,  Workers: 

Would  you  like  to  know  the  names  of  some  of  the  hard-working 
stakes  of  Zion?  Below  is  a  list,  compiled  February  6,  1913,  of  the 
number  of  Quarterly  Stake  Record  Cards  received  in  this  office  for  the 
year  1912,  the  year  of  their  introduction.  At  considerable  expense  on 
the  part  of  the  General  Board,  these  cards  have  been  sent  out,  hoping 
by  their  use  that  we  might  be  kept  in  touch  with  the  efforts  being  made 
by  the  Local  Officers  to  enroll  the  name  of  every  child  of  Primary  age 
in  the  Church.  The  response  has  not  been  entirely  satisfactory.  We 
will  continue  along  the  same  lines,  however,  asking  for  monthly  reports 
from  the  local  organizations,  Quarterly  reports  from  the  Stakes,  and 


162 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


doing  away  with  the  annual  reports.     We  hope  for  better  results  for 
the  year  1913. 

That  the  labor  has  meant  diligent  application,  constant  enthusiasm, 
and  loving  care,  we  feel  confident,  and  to  all  those  who  have  shown  by 
these  results  a  sincere  desire  to  respond  to  the  request  from  the  General 
Board,  we  extend  our  thanks  and  heartiest  commendation. 

To  show  what  may  be  done  by  earnest  endeavor  in  a  stake  where 
wards  are  far  distant,  let  us  instance  Sevier  Stake :  2,658  visits  made  ta 
children,  all  Record  Cards  in,  showing  an  increased  enrollment  of  480 
from  report  of  last  quarter,  compared  with  report  of  first  quarter^ 
Cache  leads  in  the  largest  number  of  children  visited. 


Record 
Stakes.  Cards. 

Alberta    1  • 

♦Alpine    4 

Bannock    3 

*Bear  Lake 4 

Bear  River 2 

Beaver . . 

Benson 3 

Big  Horn 1 

Bingham    

♦Blackfoot    4 

Box  Elder 3 

♦Cache 4 

Cassia    

Carbon     1 

Davis   2 

♦Deseret    2 

Duchesne     3 

Emery    1 

Ensign     

Fremont    3 

Granite    3 

Hyrum     

Jordan   3 

Juab     2 

Juarez    

Kanab    

"Liberty    4 

Malad    

Maricopa     

Millard    2 

♦Moapa     1 

Morgan   

Nebo    3 


Children 
Visited. 

171 
1610 

514 

1040 

83 

502 
124 

13i4 
1026 
3487 

197 
1174 
492 
654 
588 

•      • 

141 
1117 

58i 


690 
21 

1028 


Record 
Stakes.  Cards. 

North  Sanpete 4 

North  Weber 

Ogden    3 

Oneida     1 

Panguitch    1 

Parowan    . : 3 

Pioneer    2 

Pocatello   1 

Rigby     1 

Salt  Lake   3 

San  Juan    1 

San  Luis 1 

^Sevier    •. . .     4 

Snowflake   1 

South  Sanpete ....     3 

St.   George 2 

St.  John 

St.  Joseph 2 

Star  Valley 

Summit    3 

Taylor   1 

Teton 

Tooele    3 

•Jintah   3 

Jnion     2 

Utah     4 

''Wasatch    4 

Wavne  1 

Weber    

WoodruflF 

Yellowstone    

Young   1 


Children 

Visited. 

709 

IIU 
119 
659 
129 
338 
52 

•  ■ 

45 
176 

2658 
-> 

519 

54 

«   ■ 

184 

105 
45 

635 

28 

59 

592 

636 

15 


n 


♦Complete  reports.    Deseret  and  Moapa  stakes  recently  organized. 

Frances  K.  Thomasson,    General  Secretary. 


THE  STAKE  OFFICERS  OF  THE  PRIMARY  ASSOCIATIOK  OF  THE  SEVIER  STAKE. 

Hortense  M.  Jones,  President;  May  Gledhill,  1st  Counselor;  May  Jensen, 
2nd  Counselor;  Pearl  Christenson,  Secretary;  Bernetta  Chalk,  Assistant  Secre- 
tarj";  Ethel  ChrJstenson,  Treasurer;  Myrtle  Nebeker,  Chorister;  Nets  N.  Ogden, 
Organist;  Neils  P.  Peterson,  Soren  Christenson,  Members  of  the  High  Coun- 
cil; Louise  Christenson,  Assistant  Organist;  Mary  S.  Young,  Sarah  Chris- 
tenson, Ully  B.  Gledhill,  Hannah  Beutler,  Ethel  Dastrup.  Millie  D.  Goold, 
Irene  Segmiller,  Mary  S.  Segmiller,  Aids. 

THE  WORDS  THAT  COME. 

By  Annie  Malin. 
When  a  kindly  word  comes  to  you, 

Speak  it  out  nor  let  it  stay. 
Some  poor  heart  for  comfort  yearning 

May  catch  its  music  by  the  way; 
Do  not  blindly  seek  to  hide  it 

Nor  let  it  unspoken  die — 
Every  word  in  kindness  uttered 

Will  rise  to  bless  you  by  and  by. 

If  a  word  of  blame  comes  to  you, 

Crush  it  down,  there  let  it  stay. 
Some  poor  heart  for  comfort  yearning 

Might  catch  its  harshness  by  the  way ; 
Let  the  good  impulse  live  unbroken. 

Let  the  bad  ones  quickly  die — 
Every  cruel  word  that's  spoken 

May  rise  in  judgment  by  and  by. 


LESSON  DEPARTMENT 


Subject  for  tbe  Aontb:   Companionsbip  anb  £xample. 

LESSON  THIRTEEN. 

The  Lesson  Hour. 

SUGGESTIONS  FOR  ALL  THE  TEACHERS. 

We  hope  by  now  that  every  worker  is  supplied  with  The  Chil- 
dren's Friend  and  the  necessary  books  for  the  preparation  and  giving 
of  successful  work  in  the  associations.  Some  reports  of  the  new  work 
have  come  to  us,  the  most  pleasing  of  which  is  the  increased  attendance 
of  the  children.  As  is  usual  with  a  new  plan/ there  are  some  who  find 
it  difficult,  hut  we  are  satisfied  that  with  practice  and  experience  the 
difficulties  will  disappear  and  general  satisfaction  will  result.  Again 
preparation  is  urged,  the  officers  should  get  together  and  plan  the  work 
out  in  all  its  details,  notice  where  you  are  successful  and  where  you 
have  trouble,  devise  new  methods  to  prevent  disorder  and  lack  of  in- 
terest. Put  into  all  your  work  the  spirit  of  love  and  joy,  to  always 
keep  the  children  interested  and  happy. 

The  lessons  for  this  month  contain  many  beautiful  suggestions  and 
should  produce  in  teachers  and  children  many  resolutions  to  improve 
personally,  and  to  be  of  increased  value  to  others. 

FIRST  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text.     Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  3. 
Bible:    Luke  2:41-51. 

Other  Materials, 
Memory  Gem. 
Games. 
Songs. 
Pictures. 
Rest  Exercises. 

Aim. 

Association  with  good  and  true  friends  gives  inspiration  to  im- 
prove ourselves  and  ability  to  help  others. 

Illustration. 

"Boys  Worth  Having."     The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  5.  page  M 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  163 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher,  The  memory  gem  or  pictures  may 
be  used  to  revive  the  lessons  of  last  month.  Review  briefly  the  points 
you  made,  that  they  may  be  impressed  upon  the  minds  of  the  children. 
Let  them  report  very  briefly  of  help  they  have  seen  others  give  to  make 
a  happy  home.  Impress  again  that  all  have  a  share  in  making  the  home 
happy ;  but  who  is  it  who  does  most  ?  What  do  we  call  those  who  love 
us  and  try  to  make  us  happy?  Who  then  are  our  very  best  friends? 
Who  after  our  fathers  and  mothers  ?  By  careful  questions  and  sugges- 
tions lead  the  children  to  tell  that  they  have  playmates  who  are  friends. 
What  can  we  do  to  make  our  friends  happy  ?  Lead  them  to  the  thought 
in  the  memory  gem.  Give  the  gem  and  have  them  feel  that  their 
example  is  important.  Tell  some  personal  incident  of  how  one  child 
has  been  a  good  example  to  others  and  let  the  children  do  the  same. 
From  this  point  lead  the  minds  of  the  children  to  the  thought  of  our 
greatest  example.  .The  children  will  be  able  to  tell  who  He  is.  At  the 
time  it  best  fits  in  in  the  development  of  your  lesson,  tell  the  story  of 
"Jesus'  First.  Visit  to  Jerusalem."  Prepare  the  story  as  suggested  in 
last  year's  work  and  tell  it  to  show  how  Jesus  is  ouf  example  in  being 
obedient  to  our  parents. 

Song^  and  rest  exercises  should  be  used  during  the  period  so  that 
the  children  will  not  become  tired.  These  should  relate  as  closely  as 
possible  to  the  spiritual  truth  of  your  lesson. 

"Jesus  Bids  Us  Shine."     Primary  Songs,  page  12. 

''Skipping  Song."  Song  Stories  for  the  Kindergarten,  by  Hill, 
page  15 ;  or,  The  Children's  Friend^  vol.  6,  page  63,  are  suggested. 

Memory  Gem. 

We  can  do  more  good  by  being  good,  than  in  any  other  way. — 
Rowland  HUL 

SECOND  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text,     Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  3. 

Bible :    Matt.  3 :13-17 ;  Mark  1 :9,  11 ;  Luke  3 :21-23. 

Other  Materials, 

Memory  Gem. 

Poem. 

Games. 

Songs. 

Pictures. 

Aim. 

Association  with  good  and  true  friends  gives  inspiration  to  improve 
ourselves  and  ability  to  help  others. 


166  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Illustration. 

"Mr.  Gilmore's  Test."    The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  5,  page  361. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  After  carefully  considering  the  ma- 
terial suggested  you  will  see  that  this  month's  work  relates  itself  very 
closely  to  the  work  done  last  month,  and  grows  out  of  it  very  nicely. 

By  briefly  reviewing  the  points  you  made  in  your  last  lessons  you 
not  only  impress  them  but  prepare  the  way  for  the  new  thought  which 
you  wish  to  give. 

If  you  used  pictures  to  introduce  your  lesson  last  time  they  may  be 
used  again  as  a  means  of  reviewing  the  impressions  that  you  made. 
Add  to  this  collection  pictures  of  children  playing  in  the  park  or  at 
school,  or  any  pictures  which  suggest  friendship  between  children  or 
animals.  By  questions  or  suggestions  get  the  children  to  tell  what  wc 
call  those  people  with  whom  we  play  and  associate.  How  should  wt- 
treat  our  friends  in  the  game  or  other  places?  How  can  we  best  help 
other  children  to  play  fairly  and  politely?  Give  the  memqry  gem  here 
which  will  prepare- the  minds  of  the  children  for  the  story  of  the  Bap- 
tism of  Jesus,  which  will  enforce  this  truth; 

Keep  in  mind  the  need  for  carefully  planned  songs  and  rest  ex- 
ercises. 

Memory  Gem. 

You  can  preach  a  better  sermon  with  your  life  than  with  your  lips. 
— Goldsmith. 

■ 
Poem.     "A  Roadside  Lesson." 

I  have  read,  in  an  Eastern  tradition 

That  a  man,  as  he  walked  by  the  way, 
Picked  up  from  the  dust  of  the  roadside 
A  bit  of  unsightly  clay. 

As  he  held  it  between  his  fingers, 

All  at  once,  it  is  said  that  he  cried, 
"Whence  hast  thou  this  beautiful  fragrance?" 

"I  have  dwelt  with  the  rose !"  it  replied. 

And  I  said  in  my  heart, — "Here's  a  lesson ; 

For  even  the  commonest  clay, — 
If  it  dwell  with  the  things  that  are  sweetest — 

Shall,  in  time,  become  fragrant  as  they. 

*     "And  lives  that  may  now  be  unsightly, 
Bv  communion  with  all  that  is  pure, 
Shall  be  touched  with  a  beauty  eternal. 
That  through  all  the  vear  shall  endure/' 

—Nellie  F.  Wells. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  167 

THIRD  GRADE. 

i 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text,     Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  3. 

Bible :    Matt.  14 :15-21 ;  Mark  6 :35-44 ;  Luke  9 :12-17 ;  John  6 :5-14. 

Other  Materials. 
Memory  Gem. 
Poem. 
Songs. 
Pictures. 

« 

Aim. 

Association  with  good  and  true  friends  gives  inspiration  to  improve 
ourselves  and  ability  to  help  others. 

Illustration. 

"A  Faulty  Wheel."    The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  9,  page  474. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher,  Have  the  memory  gem  recited  and 
let  this  form  the  basis  for  reviewing  the  points  emphasized  in  last 
month's  work. 

Relate  some  observation  you  have  made  or  heard  of  that  was  the 
result  of  last  month's  work.  How  can  we  carry  these  things  farther 
and  make  other  places  happy  besides  the  home  ?  How  can  we  best  tell 
others  how  to  do  what  we  have  found  a  pleasure.  Lead  up  to  the  place 
where  you  will  ask,  who  was  it  who  showed  us  in  all  things  how  to 
live?  Let  the  children  tell  incidents  of  which  they  know  where  Jesus 
is  an  example  to  us.  When  they  have  told  what  they  know  tell  the  story 
of  Jesus  Feeding  the  Five  Thousand.  Let  us  show  how  He  taught  us 
loving  sympathy  and  kindness. 

Memory  Gem. 

The  first  great  gift  we  can  bestow  on  others  is  a  good  example. — 
Ma-  ell. 

Poem,     "Brown's  Example." 


it 


There,"  said  Brown,  with  a  shake  of  his  head, 
I've  painted  the  house  and  the  barn  and  the  shed !   • 
The  fence  has  been  fixed  and  the  lawn's  been  mowed, 
But  I  do  wish  the  town  would  fix  up  the  road. 
It's  a  shame,  I  call  it,  just  plain  and  flat. 
That  we  have  to  drive  over  roads  like  that ! 
ril  wait  no  longer,  I'll  start  to-day 
And  fix  my  part  of  it  anyway." 


168  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

Now  Brown  was  one  of  those  fellows  who, 
When  they  start  a  thing,  just  "rush  it  through." 
And  a  week  or  two  after,  as  Neighbor  Jones 
Was  driving  home  with  his  pair  of  roans. 
Brown's  road  was  dry,  while  his  own,  next  door, 
Was  mud  to  tlie  depth  of  a  foot  or  more. 
*'By  George,"  said  Jones,  "FU  let  Brown  see 
That  I  can  build  roads  as  well  as  he !" 

Now  Neighbor  Smith,  who  lived  below. 
Saw  Jones  repairing  his  road,  and  so. 
He  fixed  up  his,  to  be  "in  the  game," 
And  Neighbor  Robinson  did  the  same. 
And  soon  every  householder  in  town, 
Was  trying  his  best  to  "beat  out  Brown," 
And  now,  when  the  town  committee  meets 
To  talk  of  roads,  they  talk  of  "streets." 


/  : 


The  moral  this  tale  to  the  reader  brings 
Applies  to  roads  and  other  things. 
Reforms,  like  snowballs,  will  keep  on  growing 
If  somebody  only  sets  them  going. 

— Farmers*  Voice 

FOURTH  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text.     Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  3. 

Bible :     Daniel  and  his  three  friends,  Book  of  Daniel. 

Church  History:     Incident  from  life  of  President  Brigham  Youiijj. 

Other  Materials. 
Questions. 
Memory  Gem. 
Poem. 
Reading. 
Quotations. 

Aim. 

Association  with  good  and  true  friends  gives  inspiration  to  improve 
ourselves  and  ability  to  help  others. 

Illustration. 

"Pansy's  Lily."    The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  9,  page  575. 

Stigf^estio^ts  for  the  Teacher.  Notice  how  much  importance  Smiles 
puts  upon  the  influence  of  the  home.  It  will  be  helpful  to  the  children 
if  this  thoujG^ht  be  emphasized.  Use  the  poem,  "Children  That  Are 
Wanted,"  and  encourage  the  children  to  appreciate  the  wisdom  and 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  WJ 

happiness  in  trying  to  be  good  members  of  their  homes.  Fathers, 
mothers,  brothers  and  sisters  should  be  dearest  friends  as  well  as  nearest 
relatives.  But  the  world  is  big  and  there  are  many  people  to  meet  with 
whom  we  must  associate,  sometimes  sharing  labor  and  sometimes  in 
enjoying  pleasures.  Let  the  children  find  out  from  the  questions  sug- 
gested and  those  asked  by  the  teacher,  some  of  the  conditions  in  life 
which  bring  people  into  contact  with  each  other  and  develop  the  im- 
portance of  choosing  among  the  many  the  few  we  want  for  intimate 
friends.  The  teacher  will  do  well  to  go  back  in  her  own  experiences 
and  consider  how  the  changes  suggested  a,ffected  her  life.  In  the  talks 
be  s>Tnpathetic,  let  the  boys  and  girls  understand  and  feel  your  friend- 
ship and  the  value  of  the  association  of  boys  and  girls  and  teachers  in 
the  Primary.  Tell  some  incident  from  the  life  of  President  Brigham 
Young  which  illustrates  the  influence  he  had  as  a  leader  and  a  pioneer, 
and  how  the  people  who  enjoy  the  results  of  his  labor,  especially  irriga- 
tion, should  remember  him  with  honor. 

Review  briefly  the  story  of  Daniel  and  his  three  friends  and  the 
good  results  of  having  worthy  friends. 

Questions. 

What  great  change  comes  into  a  child's  life  when  he  is  six  years 
eld? 

About  how  many  new  people  does  he  meet  in  the  first  school  year  ? 

In  what  other  places  does  a  child  come  in  contact  with  numbers  of 
children  as  well  as  grown-ups? 

When  does  one  first  begin  to  choose  a  chum  or  special  friend  ? 

Why  do  you  like  to  have  a  friend  ? 

Can  you  tell  just  why  you  choose  some  boy  or  girl  for  a  com- 
panion ? 

If  you  should  think  about  it  carefully  what  kind  of  a  companion 
should  you  choose? 

What  is  the  meaning  of  the  memory  gem  ? 

Memory  Gem, 

The  only  way  to  have  a  friend  is  to  be  one. — Emerson. 

Readings.  It  is  only  by  thinking  about  great  and  good  things  that 
we  come  to  love  them,  and  it  is  only  by  loving  them,  that  we  come  to 
long  for  them,  and  it  is  only  by  longing  for  them  that  we  are  impelled 
to  seek  after  them,  and  it  is  only  by  seeking  after  them  that  they  be- 
come ours  and  we  enter  into  vital  experience  of  their  beauty  and  blessed- 
ness.— Henry  Van  Dyke. 

Discuss  this  reading  and  try  to  find  out  what  Henry  Van  Dyke 
meant  us  to  understand  by  this  statement. 

There  is  an  idea  abroad  among  most  people  that  they  should  make 
their  neighbors  good.  One  person  I  have  to  make  good,  myself.  But 
my  duty  to  my  neighbor  is  much  more  nearly  expressed  by  saying  that 
I  have  to  make  him  happy — if  I  may. — Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 

What  does  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  mean  ? 


170  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Poem.     "The  Way  of  the  World." 

It's  a  simple  and  childish  old  world, 

And  good,  when  its  weakness  you  learn 
It  likes  to  be  liked,  more  than  anything  else, 

And  it's  willing  to  like  in  return. 
WeVe  called  it  hard  names  for  so  long, 

And  told  of  its  faults  without  end, 
That  it's  just  a  bit  crusty  and  hardened  on  top, 

But  it's  glad  to  be  friends  to  a  friend. 

And,  come  to  take  stock  of  the  world, 

You've  really  no  cause  to  stand  off ; 
You're  just  like  the  rest  of  it — full  of  the  faults 

At  which  it's  so  easy  to  scoff. 
And  you'll  find,  when  you're  lonesome  at  times, 

As  along  chi  life's  journey,  you  wend, 
If  you'll  warm  your  own  heart  and  be  good  to  the  world. 

It's  glad  to  be  friends  with  a  friend. — ^Selected. 

Quotations,    Psalms  18 :25-26 ;  Proverbs  13 :20 ;  John  8 :12. 

FIFTH  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text.     Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  3. 

The  Bible:     David  and  Jonathan. 

Church  History.     Incident  from  life  of  the  Prophet  Joseph. 

Other  Materials. 
Questions. 
Memory  Gem. 
Poem. 
Readings. 
Quotations. 
Aim. 

Association  with  good  and  true  friends  pves  inspiration  to  improve 
oneself  and  ability  to  help  others. 

Illustration. 

The  Great  Stone  Face,  by  Hawthorne.  An  adaptation  of  this  story 
can  be  found  in  The  Children's  Friend,  vol,  6,  October  number. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher,  There  is  considerable  material  given 
for  this  lesson  if  well  prepared  and  will  leave  in  the  minds  of  the  class 
some  good  suggestions  about  the  value  of  choosing  the  right  kind  of 
friends.  Mr.  Smiles  says  some  beautiful  things  in  the  chapter  to  be 
studied  for  this  month  and  a  careful  study  of  it  will  give  the  teacher 
IV  ^ny  inspirational  thoughts  which  may  be  used  to  make  this  lesson  a 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  171 

very  profitable  one.    Choose  some  incident  from  the  life  of  the  Prophet 
Joseph  Smith,  which  illustrates  the  thought  in  the  gem.    • 

Questions.     How  much  of  your  time  is  spent  at  home  ? 

How  much  in  school  ? 

What  do  you  do  with  yourselves  during  vacation  ? 
•  How  many  times  a  week  do  you  meet  in  some  kind  of  religious 
organization  ? 

All  these  places  we  have  talked  about,  are  opportunities  for  the 
choosing  of  friends.  Have  you  ever  thought  that  it  is  a  good  plan  to 
think  about  your  acquaintances  and  be  very  careful  how  you  choose 


one? 

What  are  some  characteristics  of  a  good  friend? 

Reading,  To  win  and  hold  a  friend  we  are  compelled  to  keep  our- 
selves at  his  ideal  point,  and  in  turn  our  love  makes  on  him  the  same 
appeal.  Each  insists  on  his  right  in  the  other  to  an  ideal.  All  around 
the  circle  of  our  best  beloved  it  is  this  idealizing  that  gfives  to  love  its 
beauty  and  its  pain  and  its  mighty  leverage  on  character. — ^W.  C.  Gen- 
nett. 

Memory  Gem. 

Blessed  is  the  influence  of  one  true,  loving  human  soul  on  another. 
—George  Eliot. 

HAPPY  SOCIAL  RELATIONS. 

Reading,  What  a  sight  of  unpleasantness  springs  out  of  our  as- 
sociations. One  boy  never  has  a  fight ;  another  can  never  go  from  his 
home  to  school  without  at  least  one.  What  is  the  difference  ?  It  is  a  dif- 
ference of  boys.  One  girl — and  she  may  come  from  the  humblest  home 
on  the  street — has  plenty  of  girl  friends,  and  her  neighbor,  with  lots  of 
money  and  clothes,  may  be  lonely.  What  is  the  difference?  It  is  a 
difference  of  girls.  These  have  heard  the  apostle's  words,  ''Be  at  peace,'' 
and  they  have  found  that  truer  words  were  seldom  written  than  "He 
that  would  have  friends  must  show  himself  friendly."  And  this  must 
be  a  spirit  of  friendly  help  to  the  weak.  A  boy  is  not  only  to  help 
himself,  he  is  to  help  the  boy  who  is  poorer,  slower,  duller.  He  is  to 
cany  out  into  his  life  the  team-work  idea  of  his  athletic  team,  where 
the  strong  man  who  carries  the  ball  is  guarded  by  the  still  stronger  de- 
fense of  the  whole  team.  One  boy  made  his  deed  immortal  by  helping 
a  poor  woman  over  a  crowded  crossing.  No  one  knows  his;  name,  but 
what  is  better,  everyone  knows  his  deed,  and  his  example  has  been 
followed  by  hundreds   of  lads,  to  their  lasting  honor. 

Reading,  Romeo  and  Juliet,  Damon  and  Pythias — these  names 
that  are  always  associated  with  those  of  David  and  Jonathan  when  we 
come  to  make  up  the  list  of  ever  beautiful  friendships  over  which  the 
true  and  faithful  of  all  time  have  loved  to  linger.  This  sweet  and  en- 
during friendship  of  these  two  young  men,  the  orie  the  king's  son  anri 


172  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

the  other  a  shepherd  lad  is  like  an  oasis  in  the  desert  of  Samuel's  his- 
tory ;  in  fact,  it  is  one  of  the  brightest  gems  in  all  the  Bible.  It  makes 
us,  as  we  read  it,  believe  in  love  and  truth  when  Saul's  treachery  and 
wickedness  might  lead  us  to  doubt  everyone. 

Warm  friendships  were  by  no  means  uncommon  among  the  young 
men  of  ancient  times,  many  striking  instances  occurring  among  the 
Greeks.  A  historian  remarks:  "The  heroic  companions  celebrated 
by  Homer  and  others  seem  to  have  but  one  heart  and  soul,  with  scarcely 
a  wish  or  object  apart,  and  only  to  live,  as  they  were  always  ready  to 
die,  for  one  another.  The  idea  of  a  Greek  hero  seems  not  to  have  been 
thought  complete  without  such  a  brother  in  arms  by  his  side."  But 
there  is  one  factor  in  the  love  of  David  and  Jonathan  that  has  no  parallel 
in  the  classics :  it  is  the  affection  between  two  men  who  are  rivals.  It 
is  Jonathan  that  shines  most  in  the  narrative.  He  had  most  to  lose  and 
the  least  to  g^in.  He  knew  that  David  was  ordained  of  God  to  succeed 
to  his  father's  throne,  yet  he  loved  him;  he  knew  that  to  befriend 
David  was  to  offend  his  father,  yet  he  did  it ;  he  knew  that  David  must 
advance  and  he  must  decrease,  yet  no  atom  of  jealousy  disturbed  his 
serenity.  Noble  youth,  you  deserve  to  be  enrolled  with  earth's  choicest 
spirits ! 

No  one  can  see  the  situation  of  these  two  and  ask  how  Jonathan 
was  able  to  so  conduct  himself  without  finding  the  reply  in  his  firm 
and  unwavering  belief  that  what  God  did  was  not  only  right  but  best. 
And  that  this  best  for  him  as  well  as  David.  Now,  a  man  fliat  can  hold 
that  belief  in  the  face  of  his  vanishing  fortunes  is  as  great  as  John  the 
Baptist  to  whom  Jesus  gave  rare  tribute  when  he  said  he  was  as  great 
a  man  as  had  been  bom,  and  we  must  say  of  Jonathan  that  he  was 
a  tnie  soul  animated  and  guided  by  the  high  and  worthy  Spirit  of  God. 
His  act  was  not  human,  it  was  divine.  And  how  beautiful  is  this  fruit 
of  the  Spirit  of  God !  A  friendship  like  this  assumes  a  holy  character 
and  it  exists  as  a  part  of  one's  religion;  so  Jonathan  could  not  only 
be  submissive  to  the  will  of  God,  he  could  also  strengthen  the  faltering 
faith  of  his  friend  and  help  David  to  be  true.  He  "strengthened  his 
own  hand  in  God,"  and  he  braced  David  for  all  the  nerve-shattering 
trials  of  those  days.  Find,  then,  a  friend,  and  when  you  have  found  one 
keep  the  friendship  on  such  a  holy  and  sacred  basis  that  each  shall  sup- 
plement and  confirm  the  other's  faith. 

Poem,  "Things  that  Never  Die" 

The  pure,  the  bright,  the  beautiful, 

That  stirred  our  hearts  in  youth. 
The  impulse  of  wordless  prayer. 

The  dreams  of  love  and  truth ; 
The  longing  after  something  lost, 

The  spirit's  yearning  cry. 
The  striving  after  better  hopes — 

These  things  can  never  die. 


THE,  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  17  ^ 

The  timid  hand  stretched  forth  to  aid 

A  brother  in  his  need, 
A  kindly  word  in  griefs  dark  hour, 

That  proves  a  friend,  indeed ; 
The  plea  for  mercy  softly  breathed, 

When  justice  threatens  nigh ; 
The  sorrow  of  a  contrite  heart — 

These  things  shall  never  die. 

— East  and  West. 

Quotations.     Matthew  5:44-48;  John  15:12;  I  Peter  11:21. 

LESSON  FOURTEEN. 

The  Busy   Hour. 

MAKING  A  GARDEN. 

"Flowers  are  God's  thoughts  of  beauty,  taking  form  to  gladden 
mortal  gaze ;  bright  gems  of  earth,  in  which,  perchance,  we  see  what 
Eden  was — what  Paradise  may  be!" 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  What  better  opportunity  could  be 
had  to  emphasize  the  value  of  example  and  environment  than  to  draw 
the  attention  of  the  children  to  the  charm  and  beauty  of  trees  and 
flowers.  With  your  assistance  they  may  learn  how  others  by  their  labor 
and  industry  planted  and  watered.  Now  with  the  blessing  of  the  Lord 
we  are  partakers  of  many  comforts  and  beauties.  The  children  should 
be  encouraged  to  make  such  efforts  as  they  can  to  help  to  make  their 
^surroundings  more  beautiful.  The  season  of  the  year  is  also  in  our 
favor,  for  now  is  the  time  to  dig  and  rake  and  plant  for  future  pleas- 
ures. 

The  usual  opening  exercises  must  be  observed,  no  matter  which  of 
the  plans  are  adopted. 

Tf.the  weather  is  suitable,  we  suggest  that  the  grounds  around  the 
meeting-house  be  utilized  for  the  development  of  this  hour*s  work.  The 
fi:rounds  may  be  raked  and  rubbish  burned,  and  all  made  clean  and  tidy. 
Shade  trees  may  be  planted  where  they  will  be  of  service.  Lilac,  rose 
or  other  bushes  planted  for  the  sake  of  their  beauty  and  fragrance.  It 
will  be  absolutely  necessary  to  get  permission  from  the  Bishopric  for 
this  plan  and  if  possible  their  co-operation.  Perhaps  they  jwill  be  will- 
ing to  help  in  providing  a  tree  or  bushes  and  the  necessary  tools  to  do 
the  work  well,  and  perhaps  a  man  or  two  to  supervise.  If  there  are 
any  good  reasons  why  the  children  should  not  help  to  beautify  the 
grounds  around  the  meeting  house,  it  may  be  possible  to  help  some  old 
people  or  widows  or  others  who  will  be  willing  to  have  a  group  of  the 
children  to  be  their  friends  and  have  a  spring  clean-up  in  their  garden. 
Another  suggestion  would  be  to  take  the  classes  for  a  spring  walk,  to 
observe  the  buds  on  the  trees,  the  coming  of  other  manifestations  of 


174  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

spring,  the  flowers  and  birds,  etc.       Help  them  to  acknowledge  God's 
goodness  and  to  recognize  the  results  of  others  labor. 

If  this  outdoor  work  be  impossible  the  following  is  suggested  for 
the  grades: 

FIRST  AND  SECOND  GRADES. 

Song.     *The  Little  Plant.**     Poulsson^s  Finger  Plays. 

Pictures  of  gardens  and  flowers.  Talk  about  them,  how  to  get  and 
take  care  of  them.  If  desired,  boxes  may  be  made  of  strong  cardboard, 
use  patterns  given  last  month,  sides  must  be  pasted  up  firmly  instead  of 
laced.  Have  some  soil  and  flower  seeds  ready.  Let  the  children  plant 
them.  Explain  how  and  why  they  must  be  cared  for  and  that  when 
the  plants  have  grown  large  enough  they  must  be  transplanted  out- 
doors.    Suggest  that  older  children  or  parents  help  in  the  transplanting. 

THIRD  GRADE. 

Procure  from  the  stores  enough  empty  boxes  for  the  class,  shoe 
boxes  are  usually  good  for  the  purpose  needed.  Have  a  quantity  of 
good  soil  ready,  outdoors,  if  necessary  in  some  sheltered  place.  Have 
some  flower  seeds,  the  larger  seeds  such  as  nasturtiums  will  be  the 
easiest  to  handle.  When  the  boxes  are  distributed  provide  pencils  and 
let  the  children  write  the  date  and  their  own  names  on  the  box.  Fill 
with  the  soil  and  plant  the  seeds.  Have  a  talk  about  the  best  way  to 
care  for  their  boxes,  how  often  the  seeds  should  be  watered,  keeping 
them  in  the  sunshine,  etc.  Perhaps  it  would  be  a  good  plan  to  suggest 
setting  the  cardboard  box  inside  a  wooden  box  as  soon  as  possible. 
When  the  plants  are  large  enough  they  will  need  to  be  transplanted 
outdoors.  Tell  the  children  that  you  will  remember  the  date  and  are 
going  to  watch  who  will  bring  you  the  first  blossoms  from  the  seeds 
planted  during  this  lesson. 

FOURTH  AND  FIFTH  GRADES. 

If  it  is  possible  let  the  boys  and  girls  in  these  grades  make  boxes  of 
wood  suitable  for  a  window  or  a  basket  of  reeds  or  raflia  or  both.  Or- 
use  good  cardboard,  plant  seeds  and  use  suggestions  as  given  for  the 
Third  Grade. 

LESSON  FIFTEEN. 

The  Story   Hour. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher,  The  subject  for  this  month,  com- 
panionship and  example,  means  a  great  deal  in  anyone's  life,  but  is  of 
particular  importance  to  the  young.  Ttie  ability  to  choose  one's  en- 
vironment and  company  is  a  great  gift  and  one  which  may  be  developed. 
Many  unconsciously  form   friendships  and  never  consider  that  such 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  175 

friends  have  anything  to  do  with  the  making  of  character.  It  is  the 
opportunity  of  the  Primary  teacher  to  arouse  this  thought,  (the  value 
of  good  friends  and  environment),  in  the  minds  of  the  children  and  help 
them  to  the  power  of  making  a  choice  between  the  good  and  that  which 
is  not  good.  The  majority  of  good  stories  teach  the  value  of  good 
examples  and  if  the  ones  named  in  this  lesson  are  not  available  it  will 
not  be  difficult  to  substitute.  In  all  the  reading  or  telling  of  stories 
time  should  be  taken  to  discuss  them  and  to  emphasize  the  ethical 
thought  for  the  month.  Do  not  lose  sight  of  the  golden  opportunity 
which  is  given  to  you  to  be  the  means,  with  the  assistance  of  the  Holy 
Spirit,  of  helping  the  boys  and  girls  to  higher  ideals  and  greater  possi- 
bilities. 

Stories  will  be  suggested  more  than  once,  because  a  good  story 
usually  illustrates  more  than  one  good  principle,  and  then,  too,  as  a 
number  are  suggested  it  still  leaves  opportunities  for  the  teacher  to 
make  her  own  choice. 

FIRST  GRADE. 

Songs,  games  and  rest  exercises. 

Stories.  Picture  books  or  Baby  Finger  Plays;  or,  The  Old  Doll, 
in  this  issue. 

SECOND  GRADE. 

Songs,  games,  rest  exercises. 

Stories,     The  Big  Brother,  How  to  Tell  Stories,  page  141 ;  or, 

One  of  the  Something  To  Do  Series ;  or, 

Queer  Comrades ;  or, 

An  Unexpected  Peacemaker,  in  this  issue. 

THIRD  GRADE. 

Stories.     The  Porcelain  Stove,  The  Story  Hour,  page  83 ;  or. 

Among  the  Giants ;  or. 

The  Little  Boy  Who  Tried  to  Help :  or, 

Helpful  Friends,  in  this  issue. 

FOURTH  GRADE. 

Stories.     Great  Americans  for  Little  Americans ;  or. 
Little  Arthur's  Prayer,  from  Tom  Brown's  Schooldays,  pages  211- 
216 ;  or, 

Incidents  from  the  Faith  Promoting  Series ;  or. 
Where  They  Met  the  Three  Sisters ;  or. 
The  Grandmother  Mascot ;  or. 
Little  Comers,  in  this  issue. 


176  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

FIFTH  GRADE. 

Stories.    Under  the  Lilacs,  by  Louise  M.  Alcott ;  or, 

Boys  Who  Became  Famous';  or, 

Girls  Who  Became  Famous ;  or, 

Incidents  from  the  Faith  Promoting  Series ;  or, 

The  Thumb  Witness ;  or, 

A  Change  of  Mind,  in  this  issue. 

LESSON  SIXTEEN. 

The  Social  Hour. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teachers.  Do  not  forget  the  value  in  this 
work  of  teaching  the  children  to  respect  and  honor  the  place  where  they 
gather.  Everything  should  be  in  order  for  the  children  and  the  children 
should  do  their  share  in  leaving  ever)^hing  in  the  same  condition.  This 
is  part  of  your  opportunity  to  demonstrate  the  value  of  good  friends 
and  examples.  You  must  be  as  careful  to  teach  this  by  your  actions 
as  by  your  words  .  This  helps  us  to  say  again,  be  well  prepared,  for 
the  way  in  which  this  hour  is  conducted  may  be  as  good  a  lesson  on  the 
subject  of  the  month  as  could  possibly  be  given.  If  the  weather  is 
suitable,  take  the  classes  out-doors  to  play  the  games 

Preliminarv  Music. 

Prayer. 

Singing, 

Story.    The  Moming-Glory  Reformation,  in  this  issue. 

Singing  Game,     "The  Queer  Old  Man."     Swedish  Song  Plays. 

Song  Play.  "Here  We  Go  Round  the  Mulberry  Bush/'  Old  an<i 
New  Singing  Games,  or  Games  for  the  Playground,  page  290. 

Singing  Game,  "The  Farmer  in  the  E)ell."  Old  and  New  Singing 
Games  or  Games  for  the  Playground,  page  265. 

Games.    "I  Say  Stoop."    Games  for  the  Playground,  page  113. 

"Jacob  and  Rachel."    Games  for  the  Playground,  page  15. 

"Three  Deep."    Games  for  the  Playground,  page  196. 

Memory  Gems. 

Folk  Dance.    "The  Hungarian  Dance." 

Song. 

Benediction. 

DONT  BEGIN. 

Once  there  was  a  little  fly  who  saw  a  spider's  web  in  the  corner  of 
a  room.  "I  will  keep  away  from  it,"  he  thought ;  "for  if  I  should  get 
one  foot  in  it  I  might  get  two,  and  soon  I  would  be  caught  altogether." 
Wasn't  that  a  wise  little  fly  ? 

In  the  same  room  was  a  little  girl  who  had  broken  a  vase.  Some- 
thing whispered  in  her  ear,  "Hide  the  pieces,  and  don't  tell  mother." 

"No,  no!"  said  she.  "If  I  should  deceive  mother  once,  I  might 
again,  and  soon  I  should  be  telling  stories.    I  just  won't  begin." 

Wasn't  she  a  wise  little  girl? — Selected. 


1 


"Jh  Jli-hi  tlir  Mirror  up  Before  Pc^i^y's  Eyes." 


Vol.  12.  APRIL,  1913.  No.  4. 


LliTLE  PRINCESS  WISLA. 

By  Sophie  Swett, 
Chapter  IV. — Peggy's  New  Name. 

Peggy  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  with  wonder  at  the  queer  dark 
faces  of  old  Winne-Lackee  and  the  Indian  doctor  that  were  bending 
anxiously  over  her. 

She  had  opened  her  eyes  several  times  before,  in  the  two  days  and 
two  nights  that  she  had  lain  on  the  deerskin  bed,  but  not  before  had 
there  been  any  wonder  in  them  but  only  a  dull,  dreamy  look,  like  one 
who  walks  in  her  sleep. 

"Where  am  I?"  said  Peggy,  faintly,  but  with  no  sign  of  fear.  "I 
feel  just  as  if — ^as  if  I  were  somebody  else !" 

The  old  Indian  doctor  stood  up  very  straight  and  drew  a  long,  long 
breath.     He  was  as  straight  as  one  of  the  pine  trees  in  the  woods. 

"Your  little  granddaughter  will  live!"  he  said  to  Winne-Lackee, 
in  the  Indian  language.  Dr.  Sockabesin  could  speak  English  as  well 
as  any  white  man,  but  when  he  was  very  glad  or  very  sorry  about  any- 
thing he  spoke  the  Indian  togue  that  was  natural  to  him. 

Old  Winne-Lackee  stood  up  tall  and  straight,  too,  and  her  withered 
old  face  looked  as  if  it  were  made  of  very  hard  wood  and  all  its  wrinkles 
had  been  cut  into  it  with  a  sharp,  sharp  knife. 

"Let  no  one  ever  dare  to  say,  now,  that  she  is  not  my  grand- 
daughter!" she  said  fiercely,  and  she  spoke  Indian,  too,  although  she 
was  very  proud  of  having  learned  to  speak  the  white  man's  language 
better  than  any  woman  of  her  tribe.  Then  the  old  Squaw  and  the 
Indian  doctor  looked  into  each  other's  eyes  and  Winne-Lackee  under- 
stood that  he  had  promised  to  help  her  keep  the  little  white  girl  for 
her  own. 

They  had  both  watched  over  Peggy  with  scarcely  an  hour  for  rest. 
And  the  Indian  doctor's  skill  might  have  been  envied  by  many  a  white 
physician. 

Winne-Lackee  felt  that  Peggy  would  have  drowned  in  the  river 
if  she  had  not  rescued  her,  and  Dr.  Sockabesin  was  sure  that  she  would 
have  died  if  it  had  not  been  for  his  skill.  So  they  both  felt  that  Winne- 
Lackee  had  a  right  to  keep  her,  if  she  wanted  her,  for  her  own. 

"Little  Pale  Face  is  dead !"  said  the  old  Squaw,  still  in  the  queer 
Indian  language.     "This  is  Winne-Lackee's  own  granddaughter." 


180  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

It  was  just  at  that  very  minute,  as  the  old  Squaw  hesitated,  the 
question  of  what  she  should  call  her  coming  suddenly  to  her  mind,  that 
Peggy  tried  to  raise  her  head  from  the  pillow  and  a  feeble  little  smile 
flickered  over  her  face.  It  was  a  bird's  song  that  had  brought  it — the 
very  song  that  one  often  heard  across  the  orchard  slopes  at  home  in 
Pollywhoppet.  The  Squawk's  face  had  an  answering  smile  that  softened 
all  its  harsh  lines. 

"Winne-Lackee's  granddaughter,  little  Medwisla!  That  shall  be 
her  name!''  she  said. 

It  was  the  meadow-lark  whose  song  had  poured  into  the  strange 
room  where  little  Peggy  Piper  lay  and  "medwisla"  is  the  Indian  name 
of  the  bird. 

A  little  sharp  pucker  came  between  Peggy's  brows  even  while  she 
smiled.  She  looked  around  the  room  and  at  the  strange  dark  faces, 
not  as  if  she  were  afraid,  but  as  if  she  were  very  much  puzzled.  Then 
she  looked  out  of  the  window  at  the  queer  unfamiliar  houses.  A 
glimpse  of  the  blue  river  smoothed  out  the  pucker  a  little  bit.  A  river 
seemed  natural. 

"I  think  something  very  queer  has  happened,"  she  said  in  a  feeble 
little  voice.  "I  came  here  from  somewhere,  but  I  can't  remember 
where.  You — you  look  like  some  one  that  I  remember,  but  I  can't 
think  of  her  name !" 

There  was  an  old  squaw,  called  Molly  Molasses,  who  went  around 
selling  baskets  in  Pollywhoppet.  There  was  a  sudden  scowling  of 
Winne-Lackee's  black  brows  and  then  she  looked  at  Dr.  Sockabesin  and 
laughed. 

Winne-Lackee  did  not  like  to  have  anyone  think  she  looked  like 
Molly  Molasses,  who  chose  to  live  in  a  wigwam  in  the  woods  when  she 
might  have  lived  in  her  son's  house.  Winne-Lackee  knew  that  prob- 
ably it  was  Molly  Molasses  the  little  white  girl  thought  she  looked  like. 

She  was  startled,  too,  to  see  that  Peggy  remembered  at  all,  even  if 
so  vaguely.     But  Dr.  Sockabesin  smiled  at  her  fears. 

"It  is  all  like  a  dream  to  her,"  he  said  in  Indian,  "and  it  will  fade 
like  a  dream !  If  she  ever  remembers  her  life  before  she  came  here  it 
will  be  when  she  is  an  Indian  princess  and  you  have  made  her  so  happy 
that  she  will  care  nothing  about  the  past !" 

The  old  doctor  took  a  hand  mirror  from  a  toilet  table — a  toilet 
table  draped  with  silk  and  lace  but  with — what  do  you  think  for  orna- 
ments? A  hunting  knife,  a  fox's  brush,  and  a  pair  of  well-w'^ni 
moccasins ! 

He  held  the  mirror  up  before  Peggy's  eyes. 

They  were  startled  eyes  now.  There  was  something  like  fear  in 
them. 

The  dark-skinned  little  girl  who  looked  back  at  Peggy  from  the 
mirror  w  as  a  stranger  to  her.  She  seemed  to  have  her  eyes  and  to  Ix- 
in  some  mvsterious  wav  herself  and  vet  she  could  not  remember  that 
she  had  ever  seen  her  before. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  181 

The  pokeberry  ink,  with  which  the  old  fur-trading  Indian  had 
signed  his  name,  had  stained  Peggy  deeply,  while  Dr.  Sockabesin  had 
takt^n  an  hour's  sleep. 

Winne-Lackee  had  not  been  sure  that  he  would  approve  of  it.  She 
had  feared  that  he  might  at  least  say  that  she  must  wait  until  the  child 
was  well.  When  an  Indian  doctor  had  been  to  college  one  could  not 
say  what  he  might  think!  Winne-Lackee  liked  new-fashioned  white 
people's  ways,  herself,  sometimes,  but  not  when  they  made  things  appear 
wrong  that  she  wished  to  do ! 

But  Dr.  Sockabesin  had  said  nothing  against  the  pokeberry  stain. 
Even  in  the  white  men's  medical  colleges  they  knew  that  pokeberry 
juice  was  harmless. 

Only  it  was  so  hard  to  come  off  that  even  without  the  queer  stuff 
that  the  Indian  had  added  to  it  to  make  it  ink,  a  little  white  girl  stained 
with  it  >yas  likely  to  look  like  an  Indian  to  the  last  day  of  her  life ! 

Peggy  tried  to  rais^  her  head  to  get  a  better  view  of  the  strange 
little  girl  in  the  mirror  but  it  was  too  painful  an  effort.  She  looked 
at  her' arm,  from  which  the  sleeve  of  the  gay  silk  slumber-robe — a  great 
deal  too  large  for  her — had  slipped  back  and  which  was  stained,  as 
deeply  as  her  face,  with  the  pokeberry  ink. 

**I  must  be  like — like  this  old  woman  and — the  one  who  comes  to 
sell  baskets — somewhere,"  she  thought  in  a  puzzled  way.  Names  poor 
Peggy  could  not  remember  at  all. 

Old  Winne-Lackee  slipped  her  arm  gently,  caressingly,  about  the 
little  figure. 

**Medwisla — little  granddaughter!"  she  said,  "Be  soon  well!  Queer 
bad  dreams  all  go  away !     Be  happy  little  Indian  girl !" 

Indian!  That  was  the  word  Peggy  had  tried  to  remember.  It 
was  an  Indian  woman  who  came  to  sell  backets  in  that  strange,  far 
away  place  that  she  used  to  know,  or  else  had  dreamed  of. 

"Am  I  your  granddaughter?  Am  I  really  a  little  Indian  girl?" 
Pegg>'  asked  in  a  trembling  voice.  "Then  I  must  have  been  dreaming 
for  a  long,  long  time  that  I  was  somebody  else !" 

(to  be  continued) 


BOB'S  IDEAS. 

That  lad  will  never  get  along,"  said  an  employer  of  experience  the 
other  day,  "because  he  hates  to  obey.  I  never  give  him  an  order  with- 
out feeling  his  resistance  to  it,  though  he  may  say  nothing.  He  will 
never  find  work  that  suits  him,  or  that  he  is  happy  in,  because  every 
§:ood  worker  has  to  obey,  willingly  and  cheerfully,  either  his  employer 
or  the  laws  of  his  work,  or  the  terms  of  his  contract ;  he  cannot  get 
away  from  obedience.  Poor  Bob  is  off  the  track,  and  never  will  make 
a  record."  Bob,  of  course,  thinks  differently.  He  considers  himself 
independent  and  manly.  But  Bob  is  only  fourteen,  and  his  employer 
has  had  fifty  years  of  experience.     Which  is  the  more  likely  to  be  right  ? 


182  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


^j 


' » 


THE  BESr  KIND  OF  A  JOKE. 

BY  JOHN  E.  QUINN. 

As  a  rule,  almost  without  exception,  the  custom  of  playing  prac- 
tical jokes  may  be  set  down  as  one  that  is  anything  but  creditable  to 
those  who  engage  in  it.  Too  often  practical  jokes  are  perpetrated  for 
the  sole  purpose  of  emphasizing  or  magnifying  the  weaknesses,  the 
eccentricities,  Qr  the  foibles  of  the  innocent  victims;  and  thus  the  so- 
called  jokes  have  in  them  a  sting  "sharper  than  a  serpent's  tooth." 
Humiliation,  too,  although  it  may  not  be  intended  by  the  joker,  fre- 
quently follows  what  is  perhaps  designed  as  a  harmless  prank.  The 
practical  joker  seldom  or  never  stops  to  count  the  cost,  and  therein 
lies  the  harm.  To  sum  it  up  briefly,  the  practical  joke  is  n©  joke  at 
all,  but  rather  the  contrary. 

This  little  bit  of  moralizing  will  serve  as  the  introduction  /or  the 
best  kind  of  an  "April-fool  joke,"  played  in  the  village  of  Fairfield,  a 
suburb  of  one  of  the  larger  cities  of  the  South. 

Imagine,  if  you  please,  at  a  comer  of  the  main  street  of  the  village 
a  group  of  six  boys,  upon  whose  faces  mischief  was  written  as  legibly 
as  the  name  upon  the  grocer's  sign  over  the  way. 

"Hey,  fellows,  are  you  ready?"  The  speaker  was  Wesley  Andrews. 

"Yep,"  was  the  reply  of  the  boys  in  chorus. 
.. .      "Got  the  card  all  right,  Dave?" 

"Sure,"  answered  Dave  Rogers,  the  boy  addressed. 

"Then  it's  time  we  were  getting  up  steam." 

So  off  the  boys  put,  trailing  down  the  street  on  a  dogtrot.  They 
had  gone  but  a  block  or  two  when  they  encountered  another  boy  of 
about  their  own  age  and  size,  Sam  Pennington. 

"What's  the  rush^ — say,  what's  up?"  asked  Sam,  halting  the  boys  by 
the  simple  but  never-failing  method  of  putting  himself  in  their  way. 

"Huh !  I  reckon  he's  forgot  this  is  the  first  of  April,  or  else  not, 
eh,  fellows  ?"  In  response  to  this  brilliant  sally  from  Dave  Rogers  the 
six  lads  laughed  derisively  at  Sam.  The  latter,  boylike,  colored  up  a 
bit  at  the  facetious  gibe. 

"Suppose  it  is  the  first  of  April,  what  of  it?"  he  demanded. 

"Why,  just  this,"  replied  Wesley  Andrews,  steppi'^<^  forward  and 
assuming  leadership :  "as  it's  April-fool  day  we're  out  for  a  good  time, 
and  mean  to  have  it,  too.  We're  going  to  play  just  the  best  kind  of 
an  April-fool  joke  you  ever  heard  tell  of.    Now,  then,  are  you  with  us?" 

Mischief  loves  company,  the  old  adage  should  read. 

"Am  I  with  you?  Well,  I  guess,"  was  Sam's  ready  answer. 
"Did  you  ever  know  me  to  duck  when  there  was  any  fun  on  hand?  Of 
course  I'm  with  you,  clear  through  to  the  finish.  That's  me,  every 
time." 

"Good  for  Sam  Pennington,"  was  the  universal  sentiment. 

Once  more  the  boys,  with  Sam  in  their  midst,  took  up  the  line  of 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  183 

march.  Out  near  the  end  of  town  their  leader  herded  them  into'a  side 
street,  where  the  houses  were  scattered  and  where  there  was  a  general 
air  of  desertion.  At  the  last  house  in  the  street,  a  neat  two-story  cot- 
tage, the  boys  halted  and  crowded  into  the  front  yard,  first  wrenching 
the  gate  from  its  fastenings  and  tossing  it  into  a  ditch  by  the  roadside 
that  served  for  a  gutter.  There's  nothing  like  exercise  to  develop  the 
muscle ! 

"Why,  say,  this  is  the  Widow  Simonson's,"  said  Sam,  as  if  a  great 
truth  had  suddenly  dawned  upon  him.  He  was  thinking  of  that  gate 
in  the  ditch  by  the  roadside. 

"Yep ;  we  know  it,"  chorused  two  or  three.  "And  here's  where  we 
stop,  all  the  same." 

**But  wait  a  minute!"  Sam  faced  the  group,  and  the  boys  saw 
that  he  wais  very  much  in  earnest.  "Let  me  get  the  hang  of  this  thing. 
What  are  you  fellows  up  to  ?    What's  the  joke  ?" 

"Tell  him,  Wes,"  urged  a  lad  named  Smiley,  who  had  a  clean 
record  for  attendance  at  Sunday  School. 

"Why,  it*s  the  best  joke  you  ever  heard  of,  Sam,  as  I've  told  you. 
We've  arranged  to  have  old  man  Reavey  send  a  ton  of  coal  out  here  at 
three  o'clock  this  afternoon.  Mrs.  Simonson's  gone  in  town  to  the 
hospital  today  to  see  her  son  Bennie.  Bennie,  you  know,  got  his  leg 
broke  stopping  that  runaway  horse  last  Tuesday.  Well,  when  Reavey's 
man  comes  out  here  with  the  coal  he'll  find  nobody  at  home,  and  so,  of 
course,  what'll  he  do  but  dump  the  coal  on  the  sidewalk  and  drive  off. 
Then  when  Mrs.  Simonson  comes  home  tonight  there'll  be  the  coal  in 
front  of  the  house,  and  in  the  top  of  the  pile  on  a  board  we're  going  to 
put  this  sign." 

From  the  hands  of  Dave  Rogers  (who  was  meditating  an  attack 
on  the  front  porch  and  upsetting  it,  merely  to  build  up  more  muscle) 
Wesley  Andrews  took  a  strip  of  cardboard.  When  he  had  turned  this 
cardboard  over  and  right  side  up,  Sam  read  the  rather  plaintive  query : 

"did  you  ever  get  left.^" 

"Say,  Sam,"  continued  Wesley,  who  was  almost  convulsed  with 
laughter,  "isn't  it  just  about  the  best  thing  you  ever  knew  of  in  the 
way  of  a  joke — a  joke  that  works  two  ways?  Ha,  ha!  It's  an  April- 
fool  on  old  man  Reavey,  who'll  send  the  coal  all  the  way  out  here  and 
then  have  to  cart  it  all  the  way  back  again,  and  an  April-fool  on  Mrs. 
Simonson,  who'll  think  the  coal  is  hers  till  she  reads  that  sign." 

"Humph!  And  that's  your  idea  of  a  good  joke,  is  it?"  Plain  to 
see,  Sam  was  thoroughly  disgusted. 

"Why,  yes,"  returned  the  leader.     "Anything  wrong  with  it?" 
"How  do  you  know  the  coal  will  be  delivered  ?"  asked  Sam,  ignor- 
ing the  other's  question. 

"Because  we  ordered  it  to  be  here  at  three  o'clock." 
"Who  ordered  it?"     Sam  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  boys, 
but  they  seemed  to  be  noncommittal.     Finally  Smiley  spoke  up : 


184  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

"To  tell  the  truth,  Sam,  I  did ;  I  wrote  the  order.*' 

"But  do  you  think  Mr.  Reavey's  going  to  pay  any  attention  to  an 
order  with  your  name  on  it?" 

"No;  I  was  sharp  enough  to  understand  that,  all  right,"  said 
Smiley,  greatly  pleased  with  his  own  smartness.  "I  put  Mrs.  Simon- 
son's  name  to  the  order."  Whereupon  several  of  the  boys  laughed 
and  chuckled  in  a  silly  manner,  as  though  expressing  their  belief  that 
Smiley  was  two  or  three  kinds  of  a  hero. 

"What  have  you  got  to  say  now,  Sam?",  asked  Wesley. 

"What  have  I  got  to  say  ?  Only  this :  I  don't  think  you  fellows 
ever  ki^ew  me  to  pass  by  anything  like  real  fun  when  it  was  to  be  had 
in  this  dull  old  town,  and  I'm  not  setting  myself  up.  for  a  model  now. 
but  I  certainly  draw  the  line  on  fun  at  the  expense  of  a  poor  widow 
woman  with  her  only  son  in  the  hospital.  And  you,  Smiley,  do  you 
know  what  you've  done?  You've  gone  and  ordered  coal  in  another 
person's  name.  For  one  person  to  use  another  person's  name  on  a 
paper  of  any  kind  is  forgery,  and — " 

"Yes,  but  this  is  only  fun,"  interrupted  Smiley,  with  a  sickly  laugh. 
Smiley  had  a  cracked  tooth,  an  upper  front  one,  and  through  that  tooth 
he  could  spit  further  than  any  boy  in  school,  an  accomplishment  that 
gave  Smiley  a  high  standing  among  the  boys  of  Fairfield.  Sam  Pen- 
nington was  not  jealous  of  Smiley,  but  that  sickly  laugh  irritated  him. 

"You  may  think  it's  only  fun  Smiley,  but  I'm  out  of  it  and  I  want 
nothing  to  do  with  a  job  that  may  cost  pretty  dear  in  the  end.  My 
father  says  forgery  is  a  penitentiary  ofifense,  and,  being  a  lawyer,  he 
ought  to  know." 

At  this  point  Smiley 's  face  took  on  a  hue  which  if  not  exactly 
pale  green  was  pretty  close  to  it.  Still  the  boy  did  not  wish  to  display 
any  sign  of  weakening  before  his  companions. 

"O,  well,  if  there's  going  to  be  any  trouble  about  it,  why,  I  reckon 
it's  too  late  now  to  back  out.  for  it  wants  but  fifteen  minutes  to  three 
o'clock,  and  old  Reavey's  driver  must  be  well  on  the  way  here  by  this 
time."  It  was  with  an  air  of  bravado  Smiley  said  this,  as  though  he 
didn't  care  a  rap  for  the  consequences.  It  was  to  be  noticed,  however, 
his  words  did  not  ring  true. 

Sam  started  to  leave  the  yard. 

"Hold  on  a  minute,  Sam,"  said  Wesley  Andrews.  "I  begin  to  see 
this  thing  in  a  diflFerent  light.  It  looks  to  me  as  if  we  were  in  a  mighty 
tight  place,  and  that's  no  dream.  I  never  thought  of  Smiley's  forgery. 
I  never  even  thought  of  the  widow's  son  in  the  hospital.  All  I  thousfht 
about  was  having  a  good  time  and  getting  a  joke  off  on  somebody  just 
because  it  is  the  first  of  April  today.  I'm  clean  stumped,  that's  what 
I  am :  I  wish  I  wasn't.  But  what  are  we  going  to  do?  And,  by  jinks. 
if  there  don't  come  Reavey's  coal  wagon  now." 

Perhaps  a  quarter  of  a  mile  down  the  street  could  be  seen  the  coal 
wagon  slowly  progressing  in  the  direction  of  the  Widow  Simonson's 
cottage.     Whatever  was  done  had  to  be  done  in  a  hurry, 

"Let  me  think,"  said  Sam.     Then,  after  a  moment's  reflection.  "I 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  185 

have  it,  fellows,"  he  exclaimed;  "the  very  thing.  We  staned  out  to 
play  the  best  joke  that  anybody  ever  heard  of,  and  now  let's  carry  it 
through.  Why,  we've  just  got  to  carry  it  through  to  save  Smiley  here/' 
Sam's  argument  was  convincing.  He  won  the  other  boys  at  once,  and 
they  were  ready  to  fall  in  with  any  plan  he  might  suggest.  **How  nmch 
money  can  we  raise  together?"  he  asked. 

Wesley  Andrews  was  the  first  to  respond.     "I've  got  eighteen  cents 
in  my  pocket  and  forty-five  at  home." 

"That  makes  sixty-three  cents  for  a  starter,"  returned  Sam.  "How 
about  the  state  of  your  finances.  Smiley?     You're  next  on  the  list." 

"I  can  raise  a  dollar."  The  air  of  bravado  previously  worn  by 
Smiley  had  given  way  to  a  look  of  deep  concern.  He  was  "all  in,"  as 
the  boys  put  it. 

"Skidoo  for  mine;  twenty-three  cents  is  my  limit,"  volunteered 
Dave  Rogers.     "You're  welcome  to  that,  if  it's  of  any  use  to  you." 

"Every  little  bit  added  to  what  you've  got  makes  just  a  little  bit 
more,"  replied  Sam,  quoting  the  words  of  a  familiar  song. 

"Put  me  down  for  three  quarters.  I've  just  sold  some  of  my  fan- 
tail  pigeons."  These  words  were  uttered  by  the  tallest  boy  in  the  group, 
onAvhose  face,  beaming  good  nature,  there  was  barely  room  for  another 
freckle.  His  name  was  Packard,  and  he  .was  a  newcomer  in  Fairfield, 
his  people  having  moved  but  a  short  time  before  from  the  city.  "I  see 
what  you're  driving  at,  Sam,  and  every  cent  I've  got  is  yours." 

"What  I'm  driving  at  is  simply  for  us  boys  to  buy  the  coal,  pay 
for  it,  and  put  it  in  the  widow's  cellar.  Then  we  can  stick  the  sign  in 
the  top  of  the  pile  and  pin  the  receipted  bill  on  the  card.  My  pop  gave 
me  a  dollar  to  buy  one  of  Bruce  Foster's  Newfoundland  pups,  but  my 
dollar  goes  with  the  joke  and  the  deal  for  the  pup  is  off.  Now  let's 
figure  up.  Wes  gives  sixty-three  cents  and  Smiley  chucks  in  a  dollar ; 
that's  a  dollar  and  sixty-three.  Twenty-three  cents  from  Dave  and 
seventy-five  from  Pack  makes  it  two  sixty-one.  My  pup  money  brings 
the  total  up  to  three  sixty-one,  and" — looking  around  at  the  other  boys, 
who  shook  their  heads  in  a  helpless  way  to  indicate  that  they  were  not 
on  speaking  terms  with  any  money  just  then — "and  coal  is  six  fifty  a 
ton!  Say,  fellows,  we're  two  eighty-nine  shy.  Now,  who's  going  to 
dig  up  that  extra  money?" 

"I  am  r 

From  around  the  side  of  the  house  stepped — who  do  you  think? 
Old  Mr.  Reavey,  the  coal  dealer ! 

At  first  the  boys,  doubtful  of  the  old  gentleman's  intention  toward 
them,  imagined  personal  safety  lay  only  in  flight.  Smiley,  more  than  a 
mile  from  home,  thought  he  heard  his  mother  calling  him,  and  he  said 
it  was  necessary  for  him  to  find  out  at  once  what  she  wanted  with  him. 
Dave  Rogers  cast  about  for  a  convenient  hole  in  which  to  crawl  and 
then  pull  in  after  him.  Several  others  suddenly  discovered  they  had 
urgent  business  in  another  part  of  town,  and  they  would  have  slunk 
away,  but  the  coal  dealer  barred  their  path. 

"It's  all  right,  boys;  no  harm  done,"  he  said,  reassuringly. and  with 


186  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

a  pleasant  smile.  '*I  was  once  a  boy  myself.  It's  not  so  long  ago  that 
I've  forgotten  all  about  it,  and  the  scrapes  I  used  to  get  into  about  every 
other  day.  One  or  two  of  you  fetch  that  gate  out  of  the  ditch  first,  and 
hang  it  where  the  carpenter  who  made  it  intended  it  to  go.  Smiley, 
son,  you're  so  handy  at  opening  accounts  in  other  people's  names,  just 
try  your  hand  at  opening  the  cellar  door  there  in  my  name,  for  here 
comes  the  widpw's  coal.  Sam  Pennington,  here's  the  receipted  bill. 
Never  mind  the  extra  money,  nor  any  money  at  all.  I  would  like  you 
to  name  your  new  dog  Black  Diamond,  and  on  my  way  down  town  111 
see  if  I  can't  find  a  collar  to  fit  him.  Why,  say,  boys,  I  feel  as  young 
as  any  of  you  this  afternoon,  and  not  one  among  you  is  going  to  get 
more  fup  out  of  this  joke  than  old  man  Reavey — eh?  Well,  now, 
what  do  you  say  if  we  carry  this  little  joke  a  bit  further  between  us? 
Besides  the  coal  let's  make  it  a  barrel  of  flour  and  a  sack  of  potatoes,  or 
several  sacks,  say.  Likewise  a  side  or  two  of  pork,  and  a  few  other 
things  to  be  had  at  the  grocer's.     What  do  you  say,  boys  ?" 

"O,  but,  Mr.  Reavey,  really  now,"  protested  Sam.  "We  can't 
expect  you  to  do  all  that,  you  know.  We  boys  are  willing  to  do  our 
share.  We  intended  to  pay  for  the  coal,  didn't  we,  fellows?"  appealing' 
to  the  others. 

"I  know  you  did,  my  son.  I  overheard  your  conversation  about  the 
coal  and  the  order  which  friend  Smiley  here  wrote.  It  is  not  by  acci- 
dent I  am  out  here  today,  for,  you  see,  it  was  my  horse  that  Bennie 
Simonson  stopped  in  running  away — and  he  got  a  leg  broken  for  doing 
me  a  favor.  I  came  out  here  to  see  the  lad's  mother,  and  noticing  you 
boys  in  the  front  yard  I  concluded  the  widow  was  not  at  home,  and 
that  you  were  up  to  some  mischief,  and  so  I  slipped  in  the  back  way  to 
learn  what  was  going  on.  The  lattice  at  the  side  porch  there  screened 
me  from  view,  and — well,  between  ourselves,  now,  we'll  say  nothing  of 
Smiley's  forgery,  but  forever  let  it  remain  a  secret.  Nor  will  any  of 
us,  mind  you,  say  a  word  about  the  little  donation  we  are  going  to  make 
the  Widow  Simonson,  the  coal  and  groceries.  For  Bennie's  sake  I  owe 
the  widow  more,  far  more,  than  the  price  of  a  ton  of  coal  and  a  few 
groceries.  I  was  pleased  with  your  determination  to  buy  the  coal,  for, 
while  it  pointed  the  Way  out  of  the  difficulty  in  which  you  found  your- 
selves, it  meant,  I  know,  a  great  sacrifice  to  each  one  of  you.  Generally 
speaking,  boys  do  not  have  any  too  much  pocket  money,  and  I  presume 
the  boys  of  Fairfield  are  no  exception.  I'm  glad  I  came  out  here  today. 
I'm  glad  I  ran  across  you  boys,  and  I  want  to  know  you  better,  because 
I've  got  to  have  your  help  in  arranging  a  welcome  home  for  Bennie 
Simonson  when  he  leaves  the  hospital.  Of  one  thing  I  feel  certain. 
Every  boy  here  will  remember  this  little  transaction  of  today  as  the  best 
of  all  April-fool  jokes  that  were  ever  played  in  Fairfield.  Now  turn 
in  and  help  get  that  coal  in  the  cellar  before  the  widow  returns  and 
catches  us  on  her  premises." 

"Not  until  we  give  three  cheers  for  Mr.  Reavey,"  replied  Sam. 
"Now,  then,  fellows,  are  you  ready?    Let  her  go!" 

And  you  may  be  sure  the  cheers  were  given  with  a  right  good  Will. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  187 

HOW  MAY  USED  HER  STRhNGTH. 

BY  GERTRUDE  ROBINSON. 

It  was  such  a  forlorn  little  garden,  that  May  turned  away  her  head 
in  order  not  to  see  it.  She  always  left  her  garden  work  until  the  last, 
but,  the  longer  she  left  it,  the  harder  it  seemed  to  do.  Until  the  last 
year  Grandmother  Ellis  had  taken  this  work  for  her  own,  keeping  the 
little  patch  free  from  weeds,  and  putting  a  bit  of  love  into  every  thing 
she  did  for  her  precious  flowers.  But  there  came  a  day  when  grand- 
mother could  no  longer  stoop ;  when  even  the  bending  to  gather  a  fra- 
grant blossom  hurt  her  back.  Her  daughter,  May's  mother,  offered  to 
undertake  the  work,  but  she  was  the  busiest  of  housewives,  and  so 
grandmother  said  "no."    Then  it  was  that  May  came  forward,  saying : 

"Fll  take  care  of  the  garden,  grandma  dear." 

But  where  was  the  girl  who  had  so  much  to  do  as  May?  There 
was  her  practicing  immediately  after  breakfast ;  then  the  dusting  of  the 
two  front  rooms ;  and,  by  the  time  that  was  done,  the  sun  was  too  high 
for  her  to  waiter  the  garden.  "You  know  the  plants  will  be  injured  if 
you  water  them  while  the  sun  pours  down  upon  them,"  said  grand- 
mother gently.  So  the  only  time  left  for  the  garden  was  in  the  evening, 
just  after  supper.  But  oh,  how  many  things  were  to  be  done  at  that 
quiet  time  of  the  day!  It  was  then  that  the  hammock  seemed  most 
inviting  to  swing  in ;  it  was  then  that  the  shaded  driveway  made  such  a 
delightful  walk,  with  the  evening  shadows  beginning  to  soften  the  outr 
line  of  every  tree. 

So,  between  work  and  pleasure,  May's  days  passed,  and  the  garden 
received  but  an  occasional  bit  of  notice.  Grandmother  Ellis  used  to 
sit  on  the  porch,  looking  sadly  out  on  the  neglected  garden,  and  sigh 
when  she  thought  of  the  days  that  had  gone,  when  she  was  able  to  take 
care  of  her  flowers  herself.  The  nasturtiums  grew  smaller  for  want 
of  being  picked ;  the  pretty  vases  in  the  parlor  stood  empty,  and  May 
sat  by  her  grandmother's  side,  and  told  her  of  the  many  things  she  had 
done  that  day. 

"Do  you  know,  grandma,  I  wonder  at  myself  now,"  she  said,  "to 
see  how  much  I  like  my  practicing.  I  used  to  sit  before  the  piano  and 
wish  I  were  through,  and  spend  a  long  time  in  thinking  how  hard  it 
was.  But  now  I  just  go  right  ahead  and  practice,  and  often  the  half 
hour  seems  very  short." 

Grandmother  Ellis  nodded.  "I  know  just  how  it  is,  deary.  You 
know  that  'the  same  strength  with  which  the  mason  builds  his  wall, 
can  be  used  in  tearing  it  down.'  " 

May  looked  puzzled.  "I  don't  see  that  that  is  like  my  practicing," 
she  said. 

"It  is  like  it,"  answered  Grandmother  Ellis,  "because  at  first  you 
only  tore  down — when  you  sat  before  the  piano.  The  same  time  you 
used  in  tearing  down  could  have  been  used  in  building  up;  the  same 
strength  vmj  ii<?ed  in  displeasing  thoughts  of  your  work,  could  have 


1S8  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

jT^one  toward  doing  that  work.  But  now  you  see  that  for  yourself,  and 
>u  build  up  instead  of  tearing  down- 
May  nodded,  well  pleased,  and  she  talked  of  this  building  all  tlic 
way  down  the  path,  as  she  and  Grandmother  Ellis  took  a  little  walk. 
But  what  building  could  she  do  now?  And  as  she  walked  silently 
back  to  the  porch,  she  received  her  answer  from  a  breeze.  It  was  a 
pleasant  little  breeze,  and  it  carried  something  very  sweet  with  it ;  for. 
as  it  passed  over  the  garden,  it  took  up  a  bit  of  the  mignonette's  per- 
fume, and  oh,  how  sweet  it  was!  It  was  so  sweet,  indeed,  that  May 
stooped  to  pick  a  fragrant  piece  for  grandmother.  But  no  sooner  did 
she  look  at  the  garden  than  the  old,  put-ofl-till-tomorrow  feeling  came 
over  her.  She  looked  at  it  a  long  time,  wishing  the  work  were  all  done. 
After  all,  here  was  her  real  work;  the  long  neglected  work,  but 
how  disagreeable  it  seemed !  But  May  was  a  brave  little  soul,  and  she 
truly  meant  to  try  to  give  her  time  to  building,  instead  of  tearing  down. 
**How^  kind  of  you  to  gather  the  flowers!''  said  grandmother,  as 
May  stooped  to  pick  more.  "I  haven't  had  a  posy  in  my  room  for  two 
weeks ;"  and  her  joy  made  May  feel  all  the  more  ashamed  and  sorry. 

It  was  not  so  easy  for  May  to  shake  the  sleep  from  her  eyes  in  the 
morning,  but  she  did  it,  and  rose  one  full  hour  earlier  than  usual.  How 
she  flew  about !  And  what  a  transformation  Grandmother  Ellis  saw  in 
the  little  garden  w^hen  she  looked  from  her  window !  All  the  flowers 
had. had  a  big  drink  of  water,  and  were  standing  up  bravely  in  conse- 
quence, and  a  big  bunch  of  weeds  in  the  wheelbarrow  showed  how  busy 
May  had  been.  "But  grandmother's  happy  face  is  sweeter  than  any 
of  the  flowers,"  thought  the  young  gardener,  as  she  looked  up  and 
smiled. 

THE  LITTLE  TREE. 

BY  JANIE  D.  HOBART. 

A  small  tree  down  by  the  river  stood 

Sturdy  and  straight  and  strong, 
Lifting  its  branches  to  the  sky, 

Happy  the  whole  day  long. 

The  soft  rain  came  and  gave  it  drink ; 

The  warm  sun  kissed  it,  too — 
The  little  tree  worked  on  day  by  day. 

And  taller  and  taller  grew. 

Till  one  bright  day  it  looked  over  the  heads 

Of  all  the  forest  trees, 
And  his  beautiful  branches  green  and  soft — 

Waved  gently  in  the  breeze. 

"Then  the  tree  was  happy  and  proud  indeed. 
And  he  thanked  the  rain  and  the  sun — 

And  the  brown  earth,  too — for  helping  him  grow ; 
He  thanked  them,  every  one. 


■      FATHER  CLASPKD  HIS  HANDS  AROUND  THE  LAMB  S  BODY, 

MUD'S  PECULIARITY. 

by  edward  f.  bigelow. 

The  True  Story  of  a  Famous  Editor's  Pct. 

In  Two  Parts. — Part  I. 

Mud  was  a  lamb.  Its  companion  iamb  had  no  name — there  seemed 
to  be  nothing  distinctive  about  that  httle  animal  calling  for  a  name.  It 
was  just  "The  Lamb  and  Mud,"  or  "How's  your  Lamb — and  Mud?" 
when  a  visiting  neighbor  would  refer  to  my  pets,  inquiring  as  to  their 
welfare. 

I  dearly  loved  my  two  lambs,  and  no  ten-year-old  farmer-boy  could 
have  more  carefully  cared  for  them,  or  fed  them  more  faithfully  from 
the  time  when  they  were  given  to  me  by  my  father  one  early  spring. 
I  recall  the  very  day.  Those  days  stand  out  distinctly  in  memory — the 
day  when  the  Lamb  was  given  to  me  and  the  day  when  1  acquired 
Mud,  about  three  weeks  later.     . 

Mud  had  no  name  then — but  he  soon  made  a  name  for  himself, 
and  fame,  too.  Mud  was  much  the  smaller,  but  he  was  the  more  active 
of  the  two  lambs.  He  could  take  the  milk  from  the  pint  bottle  through 
the  rubber  nipple  in  just  two  and  three-fourths  minutes,  while  the  Lamb 
required  four  and  one-half.  That's  what  Fred,  the  "hired  man,"  said 
one  day,  when  I  w?s  telling  him  that  the  little  Iamb  could  beat  the  big 
one,  in  taking  a  pint  of  milk.     Fred  held  his  watch  and  timed  them. 

Now  the  older  one  was  big-framed,  tall,  lank,  and  rather  ungainly 
—a  young  Iamb  on  sheep's  legs.     Those  legs  always  seemed  to  me  a 


190  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

misfit,  far  too  old  for  him,  or  perhaps  more  as  if  they  had  been  hewed 
out  in  the  woodshed  and  driven  in,  one  on  each  corner  of  the  lamb.  But 
the  smaller  one  was  trim,  well-built  as  a  lamb  ought  to  be,  but  in  999 
cases  out  of  1,000  isn't.  The  little  lamb  was  refined,  supple  and  graceful 
in  every  motion.  The  legs  were  not  all  of  a  size,  and  the  joints  seemed 
made  to  allow  the  leg  to  bend,  which  wasn't  true  of  the  larger  lamb.  I 
recall  how  gracefully  the  little  legs  tapered  down  to  the  little  black 
hoofs.  The  ears  were  thin  and  delicate,  and  best  of  all,  the  wool  was 
really  wool — soft  and  curly,  not  hairily  goat-like,  as  was  the  coat  of 
the  larger  lamb. 

The  Lamb  would  take  the  milk  out  of  the  bottle  leisurely,  with  an 
occasional  bunt,  and  a  wiggle  of  the  tail,  and  frequent  stoppings  to  let 
the  air  go  through  the  rubber  nipple  and  bubble  up  through  the  milk  as 
it  was  drawn  out. 

But  with  the  smaller  lamb  it  was  decidedly  different.  That  lamb 
"fed  all  over."  Head,  neck,  tail,  body,  legs — even  the  ears  were  in 
action.  And  there  was  a  "let  up"  pn  the  milk,  for  bubbles  to  rush  up 
through,  only  about  twice  for  the  entire  bottle.  I  used  to  think  it  was 
fun  to  feed  the  little  fellow.  His  activity  would  make  one  laugh,  and 
tempt  one  strongly  at  many  a  feeding-time,  to  give  more  than  the  reg- 
ular allowance.     Oh,  what  an  active,  curly,  roly-poly  little  lamb  he  was! 

"See  him  feed!  Isn't  he  a  nice  little  lamb?"  I  exclaimed  to  my 
father  one  day,  as  he  was  going  through  the  barn. 

Father  stopped  a  moment,  and  clasped  his  hands  around  the  lamb's 
body  until  his  fore-fingers  and  thumbs  touched.  "Yes,,  he's  growing — 
getting  to  be  just  as  fat  as.  mud !" 

I  never  knew  before  why  mud  is  so  often  regarded  by  country  folk 
as  a  synonym  of  fatness,  but  I  understood  it  from  that  moment,  and  the 
comparison  seemed  very  appropriate.  The  lamb,  like  a  lump  of  mud, 
was  soft  and  pliable,  with  no  sharp  corners  nor  stick-like  legs  as  with 
the  larger  lamb.  "Fat  as  mud!"  He  deserved  the  name,  and  "Mud" 
it  was  ever  afterward. 

About  three  months  later,  when  both  lambs  had  grown  quite  large 
— but  the  larger  lamb  as  ungainly  as  ever — and  Mud  was  fatter  than 
ever — I  had  an  idea. 

It's  a  wonder  that  this  idea  hadn't  occurred  to  me  before. 

There  was  my  wagon,  made  that  spring,  with  solid  wheels,  cut 
from  plank,  a  firm  body,  and  regular  split  neap — ^all  solid  and  strong — 
built  like  larger  wagons,  for  business.  For  the  farmer  boy  (at  least,  it 
was  so  in  those  days)  gets  a  wagon  made,  not  because  he  wants  to  play 
with  it,  but  because  he  can  draw  wood  from  the  wood-pile  to  the  kitchen 
apples  from  the  orchard  to  the  house — pumpkins  from  the  cornfield  to 
the  barn,  etc.  Hence  the  wagon  is  strong  and  serviceable.  You  don't 
break  it  easily.     This  was  especially  fortunate  in  my  case. 

Now  this  was  the  idea. 

There  were  the  lambs,  and  the  wagon,  and  there  was  plenty  of  rope 
and  parts  of  harness  scattered  about  in  the  barn.  Why  not  have  a  lamb- 
team,  and  do  business,  as  the  men  did  with  Tige  and  Mage,  the  oxen? 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  191 

So  I  drew  the  wagon  to  the  barn,  and  loaded  in  a  liberal  supply  of 
short  pieces  of  ropes,  heavy  strings  and  straps.  The  Iambs  followed 
me.  They  little  suspected  the  "fun"  in  store  for  them.  I  didn't  foresee 
itall,  myself ! 

We  went  around  back  of  the  bam,  and  down  into  the  orchard.  I 
didn't  want  to  be  disturbed,  or  called  away  just  then,  by  the  folks  at 
the  house,  to  do  any  chores.  There  was  more  important  business  on 
hand.  I  laid  the  rope  and  straps  out  on  the  ground  under  the  apple- 
tree  and  fashioned  a  harness,  as  only  a  Yankee  boy  could  do  it.  The 
Lamb  stood  very  well,  only  trying  now  and  then  to  suck  one  of  my 
fingers  when  I  fitted  the  bridle,  and  getting  hold  of  one  of  my  ears  when 
I  reached  forward  to  fasten  the  traces  to  the  improvised  whiffie-tree. 
.\\\  was  proceeding  admirably  with  the  Lamb;  I  was  having  as  little 
trouble  as  if  I  had  harnessed  a  wooden  saw-horse.  But  I  little  dreamed 
of  the  pent-up  possibilities  of  Mud. 

Mud  was  peculiar  in  many  ways,  I  knew ;  and  somehow  I  felt  that 
if  there  were  to  be  trouble,  it  would  begin  with  Mud.  But  Mud's  great 
peculiarity  I  was  yet  to  learn. 

"Come  here.  Mud!  Mud,  I  say,  come  here!  HERE,  I  say! 
Here,  now,  nice  little  lamb — come  and  have  some  milk!"  I  gently  per- 
suaded. 

All  went  fairly  well  till  I  attempted  to  fasten  a  rope  around  the 
body  as  a  girth  to  hold  the  traces.  Then  Mud  jumped — in  fact,  he 
seemed  to  go  crazy  all  at  once.  I  struggled,  I  coaxed,  I  petted,  but 
that  lamb  would  jump  up,  down,  and  forward,  backward,  sideways, 
diagonallv,  at  least  the  thirty-two  points  of  the  compass. 

By  this  time  the  Lamb  was  also  getting  excited^  something  I 


THEN  MUD  SEEMED  TO  CO  C 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  193 

didn't  suppose  was  possible.  In  spite  of  all  my  efforts,  the  team  wouldn't 
"whoa"  or  "stand  still  now!"  The  two  laxnbs  broke  away  from  my 
hold,  and  went,  wagon  and  all,  straight  for  the  house,  and  I  followed 
on  a  run. 

Around  the  end  of  the  house  and  through  the  front  yard  they  went 
"a-tearing" — literally,  in  this  case — ^through  the  clothes  that  Lib  was 
hanging  on  the  line,  for  it  was  washing  day.  They  didn't  even  stop 
for  Lib,  or  give  her  time  to  get 'out  of  the  way.  They  wanted  the  path 
exactly  where  she  stood,  and  they  got  it,  as  she  went  backward  over 
the  clothes-basket.  The  wagon  bounded,  the  mud  flew  from  the  wheels, 
the  Lamb  went  down,  entangled  in  a  sheet  that  nearly  touched  the 
ground,  and  Mud  dragged  them  all  under  the  wagon,  till  the  wheels 
brought  up  a  few  feet  farther  on  against  the  gate-post.  Then  Mud 
turned  a  complete  somersault,  and  lay  panting  on  his  back  in  the  well- 
trodden  path,  wet  from  a  rain  the  previous  night — never  so  true  to  his 
name,  all  Mud! 

Let  me  pass  over  this  phase  of  the  "discovery."  You  would  have 
wanted  to  pass  over  it,  when  Grandfather,  Aunt  Mary,  and  Lib  gath- 
ered around. 

What  Grandfather  said  when  he  looked  at  the  harness  straps,  what 
Aunt  Mary  and  Lib  said  when  they  looked  at  the  clothes  (for  the  line 
g^ve  way  when  the  sheet  was  pulled  down),  what  father  said  when  he 
returned  from  the  village  and  they  told  him  about  it,  what  I  thought 
and  what  was  done  to  me — ^well,  I  can't  bear  to  tell  all  that  was  said 
and  done ;  it  wouldn't,  look  well  in  print,  and,  besides,  you  children 
would  make  fun  of  me,  if  you  knew  all ! 

(to  be  concluded) 


WHEN  GODFREY  GROWS. 

BY  LILLA  THOMAS  ELDER. 

I  wonder  when  it  is  I  grow ! 

It's  in  the  night,  I  guess. 
My  clothes  go  on  so  yery  hard 

Each  morning  when  I  dress. 

Nurse  says  they're  plenty  big  enough ; 

It's  cause  I  am  so  slow ; 
But  then  she  neVer  stops  to  think 

That  children  grow  and  grow. 

I  wonder  when !     I  can't  find  out. 

Why,  I  watch  Tommy  Pitt 
In  school  for  hours  and  I  can't  see 

Him  g^ow  the  smallest  bit! 

I  guess  that  days  we  stay  the  same, 
There's  so  much  else  to  do 

In  school  and  play,  so  I  must  grow 
At  night,  I  think — don't  you? 


19-;  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

.  THE  NEW-FANGLED  NOTION. 

BY  MABEL  EARLE. 

No,  Clara,  I  can't  see  that  it  would  be  a  good  plan,"  Uncle  Mac 
observed,  shifting  the  harness  which  he  was  mending.  "YouVe  been 
doing  well  at  the  public  school  in  Kirby,  and  I  don't  see  why  you  need 
to  go  anywhere  else,  for  these  new-fangled  notions." 

''Not  even  for  the  manual  training?"  Clara  suggested.  "They  put 
in  a  new  department  at  the  Academy  last  fall,  you  know,  after  the  new 
principal  came,  and  they  have  everything  perfectly  beautiful.  .  They 
teach  the  boys  wood-carving  and  carpentering,  and  the  girls  cook  and 
learn  to  make  their  own  shirt  waists." 

"That's  just  it,"  said  Uncle  Mac.  "You  know  it  isn't  that  I  grudge 
you  the  money,  child !  But  I  believe  in  the  old-fashioned  way  of  doing 
things — study  your  books  at  district  school,  and  learn  your  dressmaking 
and  cooking  from  your  mother.  Of  course,  in  your  case,  you'd  learn 
from  your  Aunt  Clara,  and  she  knows  more  than  those  folks  they  have 
to  teach  the  boys  and  girls  at  the  Academy.  Look  at  Joe  Warner.  He 
had  a  year  in  one  of  those  places  in  the  city,  where  they  set  out  to  teacb 
all  sorts  of  things,  and  he  went  perfectly  wild  about  telegraphy — doesn't 
want  to  hoe  potatoes,  or  go  into  Harrison's  grocery,  and  spends  all  his 
time  clicking  away  with  that  apparatus  he's  set  up  between  his  father's 
house  and  Kirby — as  if  that  sort  of  thing  ever  would  do  him  the  least 
good !" 

"But  it  really  is  vacation  time  now,  Uncle  Mac,"  Clara  pleaded, 
roused  to  do  battle  for  Joe  Warner  even  more  than  for  her  own  pet 
projects.  "Joe  doesn't  have  to  do  other  things  if  he  doesn't  care  to. 
And  Mr.  Warner  has  plenty  of  help — it  isn't  as  if  he  needed  Joe.  I'm 
sure  I  think  it's  better  for  a  boy  to  be  interested  in  something  useful 
than  to  be  loafing  about  the  street  corners  in  Kirby." 

"Well,  that's  just  where  we  can't  agree,"  said  Uncle  Mac.  "I  say 
it  isn't  a  particle  of  use.  He'd  better  have  stayed  home  and  learned 
what  his  father  could  teach  him  about  farming.  And  you'd  better 
forget  about  the  Academy,  and  ask  your  Aunt  Clara  to  teach  you  how 
to  make  buttonholes.     You'll  see  it'll  come  out  better  in  the  end." 

Clara  sighed  a  little,  looking  down  at  a  somewhat  unsuccessful 
buttonhole  on  the  cuff  of  her  waist.  It  was  perfectly  true  that  she  had 
yet  much  to  learn  in  the  arts  which  Aunt  Clara  could  teach  her;  and 
still  she  longed  to  get  into  those  wonderful  classes  at  the  Academy, 
where  girls  no  older  than  she  had  made  such  remarkable  things  in  the 
course  of  the  year  just  ended. 

"I'm  not  saying  that  I'll  never  send  you  there,  little  girl,"  Uncle 
Mac  concluded,  gathering  up  the  harness.  "It's  just  that  I  don't  favor 
this  rushing  off  into  novelties ;  and  Joe  Warner  has  made  me  more  set 
against  them  than  ever.  Now,  you  go  and  get  me  a  bite  of  luncheon 
put  together,  while  I  hitch  up,  and  when  I  come  home  with  your  aunt 
vou  can  ask  her  if  I'm  not  right."    . 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  195 

Clara  gathered  up  the  ^ggs  which  she  had  just  collected  in  the 
folds  of  her  blue  gingham  apron,  and  took  her  way  along  the  path  from 
the  big  bam  to  the  house.  She  was  disappointed,  but  she  couldn't  be 
vexed  with  Uncle  Mac.  He  always  meant  to  be  kind — even  when  he 
spoke  sharply  about  Joe  Warner. 

'*We  shall  not  be  home  before  five  o'clock,  I  reckon,"  her  uncle 
said,  when  he  drove  up  to  the  door.  "I  want  to  go  round  by  the  hill 
road  and  see  Jake  Brown  about  some  things  while  I'm  over  in  that  part 
of  the  country.  But  you  won't  worry,  staying  here  alone.  You'll  have 
Shep  to  take  care  of  you,  and  he's  as  good  as  a  policeman." 

Clara  was  not  at  all  afraid  to  be  left  alone.  The  beautiful  collie 
who  came  up  and  kissed  her  hand  as  Uncle  Mac  drove  out  through  the 
gate  was  a  better  guard  and  a  more  pleasant  companion  than  many 
human  beings,  and  while  the  house,  seemed  a  trifle  lonely,  as  it  always 
had  seemed  during  the  week  of  Aunt  Clara's  absence,  the  girl  had  no 
thought  of  any  approaching  danger.  She  brought  her  work  out  into 
the  little  vine-shaded  porch  at  the  side  of  the  house,  thoroughly  resolved 
to  make  the  buttonholes  in  Uncle  Mac's  new  shirt  so  perfectly  that  he 
never  would  remind  her  again  how  much  she  had  to  learn  before  leav- 
ing horne.  Shep  lay  down  in  the  shade  at  her  feet,  dozing,  but  with  a 
vigilance  ready  to  wake  at  the  slightest  sound. 

She  felt  nim  stir  before  she  herself  had  realized  that  anything 
unusual  was  at  hand ;  and  then,  as  he  bounded  to  his  feet,  she  saw  Joe 
Warner  come  galloping  down  the  lane  on  Kentucky  Jim,  the  fastest 
horse  in  his  father's  stables.  Joe  was  waving  his  wide-brimmed  hat, 
and  shouting  something  which  she  could  not  distinguish.  Uncle 
Mac's  new  shirt  dropped  to  the  porch  floor  unheeded,  as  she  sprang 
up  and  ran  out  to  meet  him. 

"The  reservoir!"  Joe  called  to  her  as  he  reached  the  gate.  "The 
dam  has  broken  at  Stoneborough,  and  the  water  is  coming  down  in  a 
flood, — wiping  out  everything  along  the  gulch!  This  house  is  bound 
to  go.  It  may  not  be  more  than  twenty  minutes  yet.  I  hurried  over  to 
help  you  get  things  out — we  can  carry  them  up  the  bank.  You're  not 
alone?" 

"There's  nobody  here  but  Shep,"  said  Clara,  half  dazed  with  sur- 
prise and  alarm.  "Uncle  Mac  has  gone  to  Pleas^nton  to  bring  Aunt 
Clara  home — and,  oh,  what  shall  I  do  ?    What  can  I  do  ?" 

"Get  your  uncle's  papers  together,  if  you  knpw  where  he  keeps 
them,  and  anything  your  aunt  especially  cares  about,".  Joe  demanded. 
"FII  run  down  to  the  barn  and  let  Daisy  and  Fs^n  out,  and  Til  see.  \vhat 
I  can  do  with  the  chickens.     Some  things  will. have  to  go."   . 

Clara  sped  up  the  path  to  the  porch  again.  The  boy's  copl  firm- 
ness seemed  to  have  passed  into  her  own  quivering,  nerves,  and  his 
words  had  steadied  her  to  an  understanding  of  .the  things  which,,were 
most  important  to  be  done  in  this  brief  twenty  mintjtes. 

Uncle  Mac's  desk  in  the  sitting  room  was  unlocked — she  drew  a 
long  breath  of  relief  at  that.  Snatching  the  plaid  cloth  froiti  the  table, 
she  spread  it  upon  the  floor,  and  hastily  emptied  into  it  the  contents*  of 


19C  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

drawers  and  pigeonholes.  A  heap  of  fine  linen  from  Aunt  Qara's  chest, 
treasured  since  the  days  of  her  grandmother,  followed  the  papers,  and 
then,  knotting  the  comers  of  the  table-cloth  together,  Clara  carried  it 
out  of  the  house  and  hurried  up  the  bank  to  a  ledge  some  thirty  or  forty 
feet  higher. 

"Stand  guard,  Shep!"  she  commanded,  not  knowing  whether  the 
dog  would  obey.  But  he  crouched  beside  the  unwieldly  bundle,  even 
while  his  pathetic  eyes  and  pleacling  tail  besought  her  to  let  him  come 
back  with  her. 

"Good  Shep,  stand  guard!"  she  called  again,  slipping  down  the 
steep  path  to  the  back  gate. 

There  were  still  Aunt  Clara's  dishes,  and  some  of  her  clothing ;  the 
sest-Ioved  books  of  the  household,  and  a  hundred  things  which  it  seemed 
.mpossible  to  leave  to  destruction.  Clara  knew  that  much  which  was 
-eft  in  the  house  might  escape;  but  if  the  house  should  float  away,  and 
De  caught  in  a  jam  against  the  railroad  bridge  five  miles  further  down, 
it  might  take  fire  and  bum  in  the  mass  of  wreckage,  as  had  happened 
in  more  than  one  serious  flood.  It  was  cruelly  hard  to  decide  what 
must  be  taken  and  what  must  be  left ;  but  Clara  worked  as  quickly  as 
possible,  hurriedly  gathering  the  few  pieces  of  silver  from  their  shelves, 
sweeping  up  an  armful  of  clothing,  and  laying  out  one  or  two  heavier 
articles  for  Joe  to  carry  if  he  should  come  back  in  time.  ' 

She  heard  his  step  on  the  porch  just  as  she  dragged  out  grand- 
father's oaken  chest  from  the  spare  bedchamber. 

"O  Joe,  do  you  suppose  you  can  manage  to  get  this  up  the  hill  ?" 
she  cried.  "It's  locked,  and  I  don't  know  what  is  inside,  but  I'm  cer- 
tain that  Uncle  Mac  wouldn't  let  it  be  lost." 

It  was  not  a  very  large,  chest,  solid  as  it  was.  Joe  grasped  it  and 
carried  it,  staggering  slightly  under  its  weight ;  and  Clara  followed  him, 
with  the  articles  which  she  had  selected.  Just  as  they  reached  the 
ledge,  Joe  caught  her  arm  and  bade  her  look. 

Far  up  the  narrow  gulch  the  flood  was  coming,  sweeping  down 
trees  and  houses  as  it  moved. 

'Well,  we're  safe  anyway,"  said  Joe. 

'Oh,  my  poor  tabby!"  Clara  cried  out.  "I  left  her  shut  into  the 
pantry  this  afternoon,  to  catch  a  mouse  that  I  heard  there!  I  can't 
leave  her  to  drown !" 

"You  can't  go  back,"  Joe  declared.  But  she  was  half  way  down 
the  path,  and  he  could  not  let  her  go  alone. 

The  water  had  reached  the  clump  of  willows  at  the  bend  of  the 
gulch  before  Qara  could  unfasten  the  pantry  door.  As  the  cat  sprang 
out,  scurrying  up  the  side  of  the  hill,  a  great  wave  washed  against 
the  porch. 

"Here,  we'll  have  to  mn  for  it,"  said  Joe. 

The  yard  was  a  whirling  torrent.  One  large  log  which  had  lain 
in  the  grass  just  within  the  gate  for  some  time  since  the  tree  was  felled, 
oflFerea  an  uncertain  footing.  Steaded  by  Joe's  hand,  Qara  sprang 
upon  It,  and  thence  to  safer  ground.    In  all  the  terror  of  the  moment 


tit 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIENp.  197 

she  could  scarcely  take  her  eyes  from  the  sweeping  breadth  of  water 
which  had  seemed  so  safe  and  quiet  twenty  minutes  earlier. 

"I'm  glad  I  received  the  word  in  time,  Joe  said  gravely,  when  they 
had  reached  the  ledge.  "Now,  if  you'll  pick  out  which  of  these  things 
has  to  be  taken  care  of  first,  we'll  just  carry  them  over  to  our  house. 
We  were  so  high  above  you  there  that  father  thought  there  wouldn't 
be  any  danger  for  us." 

Even  as  he  spoke.  Uncle  Mac's  house  quivered  upon  its  founda- 
tions, slid  forward  and  went  sailing  down  the  gulch ;  and  at  that  sight 
Clara  hid  her  eyes,  safe  though  she  was. 

A  very  anxious  Uncle  Mac  found  her  at  the  Warner  house,  when 
he  drove  home  by  the  hill  road,  having  heard  tales  of  disaster  for  the 
last  ten  miles  of  his' way. 

"How  did  you  get  the  word  in  time?"  he  demanded  of  Joe,  patting 
Qara's  shoulder  as  she  clung  to  him  and  sobbed, 

"Oh,  it  was  over  my  wire,"  Joe  answered,  flushing  slightly.  "That 
fellow  I've  been  practicing  with  in  Kirby — ^they  had  5ie  news  there,  of 
course,  by  wire  from  Stoneborough — called  me  and  told  me." 

"H'm,"  said  Uncle  Mac.  "I  was  just  telling  this  girl  today,  that 
your  telegraphing  wasn't  of  any  use  in  the  world,  and  she  must  not  ask 
me  to  send  her  to  any  school  where  young  folks  could  pick  up  these 
new-fangled  notions.  But  when  a  boy's  fad  has  saved  my  niece,  and 
most  of  my  hens  and  stock,  and  my  business  papers  and  the  bonds  and 
policies  in  grandfather's  chest — ^why,  I  may  have  to  give  in  that  it's  of 
some  use,  after  all.  See  here,  Clara,  will  you  stop  crying  if  I  say  you 
can  go  to  the  Academy?" 


IF. 
How  queer  we  should  have  looked 

If  babies  one  and  all. 
Had  just  kept  growing  round    . 
Instead  of  growing  tall ! 

—Eva  O.  B.  Gilbert. 


198  ^THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

DAVES  EXPERIMENT. 

Miss  Lucile  Parks  had  dismissed  her  little  class  for  the  morning, 
and  was  putting  away  their  slates  and  pencils,  when  a  noisy  and  im- 
patient knock  sounded  on  her  door. 

"Come  in !"  she  said ;  and  as  the  door  opened  admitting  her  young 
brother,  she  asked  quickly,  "Is  anything  the  matter,  Dave?" 

"Everything  is  the  matter,"  said  the  boy  sullenly,,  throwing  him- 
self heavily  into  a  chair.  "It's  just  this.  Luce:  If  father  insists  upon 
making  a  scholar  of  nie,  Til  run  off  and  go  to  work." 

"Don't  threaten,  'Dave,  whatever  you  do,"  was  the  unexpected 
reply.  "If  you  want  to  run  away,  run,  by  all  means ;  but  don't  stand 
round  telling  your  family  what  you  may  do." 

Dave  was  rather  taken  aback ;  his  bombshell  hadn't  exploded,  and 
his  sister  was  neither  asking  questions  nor  making  entreaties. 

"I  can't  study,"  the  boy  said,  after  an  awkward  silence;  "I  hate 
it  like  poison.  '•I  wish  I  might  never  see  another  book.  Why  should 
I  be  made  to  do  what  I  hate  when  there  are  so  many  other  ways  of 
earning  a  living?" 

"Do  you  really  mean  what  you  say,  Dave  Parks?"  his  sister  asked 
somewhat  severely ;  "do* you  really  want  to  go  to  hard  work?" 

"I  really  do,"  Dave  answered  earnestly. 

There  was  an  honest  ring  in  Dave's  voice ;  his  sister  seemed  struck 
by  it. 

"All  right,  Dave,  I'll  help  you,  if  you  really  mean  business.  I 
think  I  can  promise  you  to  change  by  the  end  of  the  week." 

Dave  sprang  up  and  gave  her  a  bear  hug,  pulling  hair  and  collar 
very  much  to  one  side. 

"Remember,  Buster,  /  am  not  the  boss  of  this  shanty,"  she  said,  "so 
don't  be  too  sure." 

"But  I  am  sure!"  he  shouted,  executing  a  darky  shuffle.  "Dad 
thinks  you  are  the  Wise  Woman  of  — what  was  it  ?  Something  begin- 
ning with  T." 

"Tekoa,  probably,"  answered  his  sister,  laughing. 

Dave  never  knew  what  the  Wise  Woman  of  Tekoa  had  said  to  his 
father,  but  in  less  than  a  month  he  had  put  away  his  schoolbooks.  and 
was  on  the  train  for  Baltimore.  Mr.  Parks  had  secured  him  a  place 
in  a  large  wholesale  house. 

And  now  see  our  schoolboy  at  work;  he  has  been  at.it  for  six 
months,  and  his  employer  is  well  pleased.  At  first,  the  relief  from 
schoolwork  pleased  him — the  newness  of  everything  seemed  variety. 
Presently,  as  the  days  of  manual  labor  followed  one  another  in  unbrok- 
en regularity,  the  bov  began  to  ask  himself  if,  after  all,  handling  boxes 
and  barrels  and  packages,  loading  and  unloading  drays,  taking  down 
orders,  and  seeing  that  they  were  correctly  filled,  was  a  more  interest- 
ing life  than  preparing  for  college. 

"I  chose  this  life  myself."  Dave  admitted  bravely  to  himself,  tak- 
ing up  his  day's  drudgery.     "I  had  my  chance  to  do  something  better 


.  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  199 

than  this,  and  I  threw  it  away.  Well,  I  was  foolish ;  but  it's  too  late 
now.    I  must  just  stick  to  this  and  make  the  best  of  it !'' 

The  long,  hot  summer  was  wearing  away ;  the  smell  of  the  docks, 
the  shipyards,  and  even  of  the  streets  in  that  low  part  of  the  city,  was 
almost  intolerable  to  Dave.  But  he  pulled  himself  out  of  the  blues,  and 
was  finding  more  and  more  interest  in  doing  his  work  well,  when  a  letter 
from  his  father  suddenly  made  his  head  swim. 

It  was  at  the  end  of  a  long,  affectionate  home  letter  that  the  fol- 
lowing words  came: — 

"I  don't  know  whether  you  know,  my  son,  that  I  have  always  con- 
sireded  this  life  in  the  warehouse  an  experiment  for  you.  If  you  like 
it,  and  want  to  go  on,  well  and  good ;  you  have  proved  now  that  you 
have  sufficient  industry  and  pluck  to  succeed.  If,  on  the  other  hand 
you  take  a  different  view  at  that  distance  of  the  chances  you  gave  up 
of  mental  training,  you  have  only  to  say  so;  they  are  still  yours." 

They  were  still  his!  The  school  benches,  the  open  books,  the 
teacher's  voice,  suddenly  came  between  him  and  the  sultry  street,  dark- 
ened by  ten-story  buildings. 

Dave  goes  to  college  next  year,  from  the  high  school,  oti  the  San- 
born scholarship.  It  was  won  by  the  same  grit  and  pluck;  and  industry 
that  he  developed  in  his  uncongenial  life  in  the  warehouse;  and  now 
he  knows  that  this  price  is  exacted,  no  matter  where  a  fellow  casts  his 
lot,  and  that  pluck  and  industry  wnll,  perhaps,  bring  him  better  returns 
of  the  best  things  of  life  when  put  into  schoolwork  than  any  other  way 
—at  least  for  the  years  of  boyhood. 


.  REUBEN'S  INDUSTRY. 

By  Kate  W,  Hamilton. 

The  spinning  wheel  in  the  corner  of  the  room  stopped  its  whirring, 
and  Lois  looked  over  her  shoulder  at  her  cousin. 

*T  am  minded  to  put  the  work  away,"  she  said.  "I  have  done  no 
poor  stent  as  it  is." 

As  I  have  stitched  at  this  'kerchief  and  yawned  at  the  road  until 
I  am  well  weary  of  both,"  laughed  Peggy.  "I  thought  you  would 
never  have  done.    Let  us  get  out  of  doors ;  I  am  tired  of  walls." 

Lois  was  not.  Left  to  herself,  she  would  have  found  something 
to  busy  her  housewifely  soul  and  hands  without  stirring  far  from  the 
wide  fire  place,  with  its  smouldering  logs,  which  made,  for  her,  a  cosy 
picture.  But  Peggy  was  the  leading  spirit,  and  was,  moreover,  a  guest, 
and  Peggy  had  tired  of  the  quiet  house,  with  its  master  and  mistress 
away  for  the  day.  It  had  been  well  enough  while  there  was  the  bustle  of 
the  morning  work  and  preparing  dinner  for  Ben  and  Reuben,  but  with 
that  out  of  the  way,  she  began  to  long  for  other  employment. 

"Let  us  go  to  the  woods  and  look  at  those  maple  trees,"  she  pro- 
posed.   "Your  grandfather  said  he  had  two  or  three  tapped  yesterday. 


190  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

misfit,  far  too  old  for  him,  or  perhaps  more  as  if  they  had  been  hewed 
out  in  the  woodshed  and  driven  in,  one  on  each  corner  of  the  lamb.  But 
the  smaller  one  was  trim,  well-built  as  a  lamb  ought  to  be,  but  in  999 
cases  out  of  1,000  isn't.  The  little  lamb  was  refined,  supple  and  graceful 
in  every  motion.  The  legs  were  not  all  of  a  size,  and  the  joints  seemed 
made  to  allow  the  leg  to  bend,  which  wasn't  true  of  the  larger  Iamb.  I 
recall  how  gracefully  the  little  legs  tapered  down  to  the  little  black 
hoofs.  The  ears  were  thin  and  delicate,  and  best  of  all,  the  wool  was 
really  wool — soft  and  curly,  not  hairily  goat-like,  as  was  the  coat  of 
the  larger  lamb. 

The  Lamb  would  take  the  milk  out  of  the  bottle  leisurely,  with  an 
occasional  bunt,  and  a  wiggle  of  the  tail,  and  frequent  stoppings  to  let 
the  air  go  through  the  rubber  nipple  and  bubble  up  through  the  milk  as 
it  was  drawn  out. 

But  with  the  smaller  lamb  it  was  decidedly  different.  That  lamb 
"fed  all  over."  Head,  neck,  tail,  body,  legs — even  the  ears  were  in 
action.  And  there  was  a  "let  up"  pn  the  milk,  for  bubbles  to  rush  up 
through,  only  about  twice  for  the  entire  bottle.  I  used  to  think  it  was 
fun  to  feed  the  little  fellow.  His  activity  would  make  one  laugh,  and 
tempt  one  strongly  at  many  a  feeding-time,  to  give  more  than  the  reg- 
ular allowance.     Oh,  what  an  active,  curly,  roly-poly  little  lamb  he  was ! 

"See  him  feed!  Isn't  he  a  nice  little  Iamb?"  I  exclaimed  to  mv 
father  one  day,  as  he  was  going  through  the  barn. 

Father  stopped  a  moment,  and  clasped  his  hands  around  the  lamb's 
body  until  his  fore-fingers  and  thumbs  touched.  **Yes„  he's  growing — 
getting  to  be  just  as  fat  as  mud !" 

I  never  knew  before  why  mud  is  so  often  regarded  by  country  folk 
as  a  synonym  of  fatness,  but  I  understood  it  from  that  moment,  and  the 
comparison  seemed  very  appropriate.  The  lamb,  like  a  lump  of  mud, 
was  soft  and  pliable,  with  no  sharp  corners  nor  stick-like  legs  as  with 
the  larger  lamb.  "Fat  as  mud!"  He  deserved  the  name,  and  "Mud" 
it  was  ever  afterward. 

About  three  months  later,  when  both  lambs  had  grown  quite  large 
— ^but  the  larger  lamb  as  ungainly  as  ever — and  Mud  was  fatter  than 
ever — I  had  an  idea. 

It's  a  wonder  that  this  idea  hadn't  occurred  to  me  before. 

There  was  my  wagon,  made  that  spring,  with  solid  wheels,  cut 
from  plank,  a  firm  body,  and  regular  split  neap — all  solid  and  strong — 
built  like  larger  wagons,  for  business.  For  the  farmer  boy  (at  least,  it 
was  so  in  those  days)  gets  a  wagon  made,  not  because  he  wants  to  play 
with  it,  but  because  he  can  draw  wood  from  the  wood-pile  to  the  kitchen 
apples  from  the  orchard  to  the  house — pumpkins  from  the  cornfield  to 
the  barn,  etc.  Hence  the  wagon  is  strong  and  serviceable.  You  don't 
break  it  easily.     This  was  especially  fortunate  in  my  case. 

Now  this  was  the  idea. 

There  were  the  lambs,  and  the  wagon,  and  there  was  plenty  of  rope 
and  parts  of  harness  scattered  about  in  the  barn.  Why  not  have  a  lamb- 
team,  and  do  business,  as  the  men  did  with  Tige  and  Mage,  the  oxen? 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  .  201 

• 

succeeded  in  placing  themselves  among  the  branches  of  two  of  the 
smaller  trees  near  each  other,  while  the  bear,  following  them  in  his 
clumsy  fashion,  occasionally  uttered  a  low  g^owl. 

**But  how  will  we  ever  get  down  and  home?"  murmured  Lois, 
when  they  could  feel  that  they  were  safe  for  a  moment. 

It  was  a  question  to  which  there  seemed  no  answer,  for  the  bear, 
while  not  coming  very  near,  circled  slowly  about  the  trees  and  appeared 
to  have  no  idea  of  departing.  He  was  very  clumsy,  even  for  a  bear, 
Peggy  thought,  watching  him  while  the  long  moments  passed,  and  her 
breath  and  courage  returned.  Maybe  he  had  been  injured  in  some  way, 
or  something  had  happened  to  make  him  more  sluggish  than 
usual.  If  only  she  had  not  left  the  musket  beside  her  kettle  of  sap. 
Suddenly  an  idea  took  form  in  her  quick  brain,  as  she  watched  the 
awkward  enemy.  She  cleared  her  dress  from  detaining  twigs,  planted 
her  feet  firmly  on  a  lower  branch,  and  as  the  animal  reached  the  farther 
limit  of  his  beat,  she  sprang  quickly  to  the  ground. 

"Oh  Peggy,"  gasped  Lois,  but  her  cousin  darted  like  an  arrow 
through  the  bushes,  and  catching  up  her  weapon,  turned.  The  sight 
of  it  had  an  instantaneous  and  very  remarkable  effect  upon  the  bear. 

"Don't  shoot.  Don't  shoot,"  he  cried,  in  unmistakable  human 
voice. 

"Reuben."  exclaimed  Lois,  while  Peggy's  triumphant,  "I  thought 
as  much,"  rang  out  like  an  echo. 

It  was  a  very  crestfallen  and  foolish-appearing  boy  that  struggled 
out  of  the  bearskin  and  confronted  two  girls  who  were  not  inclined  to 
be  particularly  merciful  to  his  plea  that  it  was  "only  a  joke." 

"It  will  sound  like  a  good  one  when  we  tell  it,"  said  Lois.  "He 
meant  to  sell  it  for  stuffing  and  expected  a  good  price." 

"It's  not  any  worse,"  answered  Reuben,  doubtfully,  his  face  paling 
a  little.  There  were  several  things  he  had*  not  stopped  to  think  of  when 
he  started  on  his  expedition. 

"And  our  grandfajlier  will  surely  think  your  leg  needed  rest  this 
morning  when  he  finds  how  you  used  it,"  pursued  Lois. 

Reuben  winced.  He  pretended  indifference  for  a  minute  or  two 
and  then  he  tried  to  buy  silence ;  but  all  usual  inducements  proved  value- 
less. His  store  of  nuts,  his  little  hoard  of  treasures  the  girls  would 
have  none  of;  they  would  accept  but  one  thing — an  immediate  convers- 
ion from  shirking,  with  immunity  promised  only  during  good  behavior. 

It  was  a  hard  bargain  for  leisure-loving  Reuben,  but  he  shouldered 
the  musket  and  the  kettle,  and  began  serving  his  sentence  at  once,' as 
he  led  the  march  homeward.  His  readiness  in  bringing  wood  and  water 
and  caring  for  all  the  domestic  animals  that  evening,  drew  approving 
looks,  mingled  with  something  of  wonder,  from  the  grandfather  and 
grandmother,  and  the  next  morning  he  was  more  than  willing  to  shoul- 
der an  ax  and  go  with  Ben.  Anything  better  than  those  teasing  girls. 
All  the  week  that  followed  he  took  his  rightful  share  of  tasks,and  any 
desire  to  evade  vanished  at  a  single  glance  from  one  or  the  other  pair  of 
twinkling  eyes.     On  Saturday,  the  grandfather,  returning  from  a  ride 


202  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

to  the  village,  handed  the  boy  a  package — a  treasure  in  those  days, 
when  new  books  were  rare. 

"IVe  been  watching  you  this  week,  son,"  said  the  old  man,  kindly. 
"Fm  well  pleased." 

*The  youngster  had  surely  deserved  it,"  added  big  brother  Ben, 
heartily. 

If  a  boyish  cheek  flushed  and  two  girls  giggled,  nobody  noticed. 

"I'm  thinking  the  cure  will  be  complete,"  whispered  Peggy,  wisely. 
**Tlie  rew^ard  unearned  will  sting  more  than  many  a  sound  rating  des- 
erved." 

She  was  right.  Reuben  looked  at  his  grandfather  with  a  sudden 
resolution  to  become  worthy  of  his  faith.  Then  he  straightened  his 
boyish  shoulders  and  gave  the  girls  a  fearless  glance,  that  intimated 
they  might  retire  from  police  duty ;  thereafter  he  would  take  charge  of 
his  own  training  in  industry. 


JOHNNY  AND  THE  RAIN. 

"Rain,  rain,  go  away, 
Come  again  another  day, 
Little  Johnny  wants  to  play!" 

But  the  flowers  in  their  bed 
Sadly  shook  each  drooping  head 
At  wee  Johnny,  as  they  said; 

"Nay,  for  days  we've  sighed  in  vain 
For  the  cool,  refreshing  rain, 
And  we  w^ant  it  to  remain!" 

Then  the  froggies  hopped  about 
In  the  pools  to  bathe  and  rout, 
Fondly  splashing  in  and  out! 

And  a  thrush,  with  might  and  main, 
Sang  its  praises  of  the  rain 
In  a  happy,  joyous  strain. 

Froggies,  birdies,  flowVs  and  all 
Loved  to  see  the  rain  drops  fall, 
And  in  chorus  came  the  call: 

"Johnny,  Johnny,  go  aw^ay, 
Rain,  rain,  fall  all  the  dav, 
*Tis  the  time  \vc  love  to  play !" 

— Selected. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  193 

didn't  suppose  was  possible.  In  spite  of  all  my  efforts,  the  team  wouldn't 
"whoa"  or  "stand  still  now!"  The  two  lambs  broke  away  from  my 
hold,  and  went,  wagon  and  all,  straight  for  the  house,  and  I  followed 
on  a  nm. 

Around  the  end  of  the  house  and  through  the  front  yard  they  went 
"a-tearing" — literally,  in  this  case — ^through  the  clothes  that  Lib  was 
hanging  on  the  line,  for  it  was  washing  day.  They  didn't  even  stop 
for  Lib,  or  g^ve  her  time  to  get 'out  of  the  way.  They  wanted  the  path 
exactly  where  she  stood,  and  they  got  it,  as  she  went  backward  over 
the  clothes-basket.  The  wagon  bounded,  the  mud  flew  from  the  wheels, 
the  Lamb  went  down,  entangled  in  a  sheet  that  nearly  touched  the 
ground,  and  Mud  dragged  them  all  under  the  wagon,  till  the  wheels 
brought  up  a  few  feet  farther  on  against  the  gate-post.  Then  Mud 
turned  a  complete  somersault,  and  lay  panting  on  his  back  in  the  well- 
trodden  path,  wet  from  a  rain  the  previous  night — never  so  true  to  his 
name,  all  Mud  I 

Let  me  pass  over  this  phase  of  the  "discovery."  You  would  have 
wanted  to  pass  over  it,  when  Grandfather,  Aunt  Mary,  and  Lib  gath- 
ered around. 

What  Grandfather  said  when  he  looked  at  the  harness  straps,  what 
Aunt  Mary  and  Lib  said  when  they  looked  at  the  clothes  (for  the  line 
gave  way  when  the  sheet  was  pulled  down),  what  father  said  when  he 
returned  from  the  village  and  they  told  him  about  it,  what  I  thought 
and  what  was  done  to  me — well,  I  can't  bear  to  tell  all  that  was  said 
and  done ;  it  wouldn't,  look  well  in  print,  and,  besides,  you  children 
would  make  fun  of  me,  if  you  knew  all ! 

(to  be  concluded) 

WHEN  GODFREY  GROWS. 

BY  LILLA  THOMAS  ELDER. 

I  wonder  when  it  is  I  grow ! 

It's  in  the  night,  I  guess. 
My  clothes  go  on  so  yery  hard 

Each  morning  when  I  dress. 

Nurse  says  they're  plenty  big  enough ; 

It's  cause  I  am  so  slow ; 
But  then  she  neVer  stops  to  think 

That  children  grow  and  grow. 

I  wonder  when!     I  can't  find  out. 

Why,  I  watch  Tommy  Pitt 
In  school  for  hours  and  I  can't  see 

Him  grow  the  smallest  bit! 

I  guess  that  days  we  stay  the  same, 

There's  so  much  else  to  do 
In  school  and  play,  so  I  must  grow 

At  night,  I  think — don't  you  ? 


19-;  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

.  THE  NEW-FANGLED  NOTION. 

BY  MABEL  EARLE. 

No,  Clara,  I  can't  see  that  it  would  be  a  good  plan,"  Uncle  Mac 
observed,  shifting  the  harness  which  he  was  mending.  "YouVe  been 
doing  well  at  the  public  school  in  Kirby,  and  I  don't  see  why  you  need 
to  go  anywhere  else,  for  these  new-fangled  notions." 

**Not  even  for  the  manual  training?"  Clara  suggested.  "They  put 
in  a  new  department  at  the  Academy  last  fall,  you  know,  after  the  new 
principal  came,  and  they  have  everything  perfectly  beautiful.  .  They 
teach  the  boys  wood-carving  and  carpentering,  and  the  girls  cook  and 
learn  to  make  their  own  shirt  waists." 

"That's  just  it,"  said  Uncle  Mac.  "You  know  it  isn't  that  I  grudge 
you  the  money,  child !  But  I  believe  in  the  old-fashioned  way  of  doing 
things — study  your  books  at  district  school,  and  learn  your  dressmaking 
and  cooking  from  your  mother.  Of  course,  in  your  case,  you'd  learn 
from  your  Aunt  Clara,  and  she  knows  more  than  those  folks  they  have 
to  teach  the  boys  and  girls  at  the  Academy.  Look  at  Joe  Warner.  He 
had  a  year  in  one  of  those  places  in  the  city,  where  they  set  out  to  teach 
all  sorts  of  things,  and  he  went  perfectly  wild  about  telegraphy — doesn't 
want  to  hoe  potatoes,  or  go  into  Harrison's  grocery,  and  spends  all  his 
time  clicking  away  with  that  apparatus  he's  set  up  between  his  father's 
house  and  Kirby — as  if  that  sort  of  thing  ever  would,  do  him  the  least 
good !" 

"But  it  really  is  vacation  time  now.  Uncle  Mac,"  Clara  pleaded, 
roused  to  do  battle  for  Joe  Warner  even  more  than  for  her  own  pet 
projects.  "Joe  doesn't  have  to  do  other  things  if  he  doesn't  care  to. 
And  Mr.  Warner  has  plenty  of  help — it  isn't  as  if  he  needed  Joe.  I'm 
sure  I  think  it's  better  for  a  boy  to  be  interested  in  something  useful 
than  to  be  loafing  about  the  street  corners  in  Kirby." 

"Well,  that's  just  where  we  can't  agree,"  said  Uncle  Mac.  "I  say 
it  isn't  a  particle  of  use.  He'd  better  have  stayed  home  and  learned 
what  his  father  could  teach  him  about  farming.  And  you'd  better 
forget  about  the  Academy,  and  ask  your  Aunt  Clara  to  teach  you  how 
to  make  buttonholes.     You'll  see  it'll  come  out  better  in  the  end." 

Clara  sighed  a  little,  looking  down  at  a  somewhat  unsuccessful 
buttonhole  on  the  cuff  of  her  waist.  It  was  perfectly  true  that  she  had 
yet  much  to  learn  in  the  arts  which  Aunt  Clara  could  teach  her;  and 
still  she  longed  to  get  into  those  wonderful  classes  at  the  Academy, 
where  girls  no  older  than  she  had  made  such  remarkable  things  in  the 
course  of  the  year  just  ended. 

"I'm  not  saying  that  I'll  never  send  you  there,  little  girl,"  Uncle 
Mac  concluded,  gathering  up  the  harness.  "It's  just  that  I  don't  favor 
this  rushing  off  into  novelties ;  and  Joe  Warner  has  made  me  more  set 
against  them  than  ever.  Now,  you  go  and  get  me  a  bite  of  luncheon 
put  together,  while  I  hitch  up,  and  when  I  come  home  with  your  aunt 
vou  can  ask  her  if  I'm  not  right."    . 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  19S 

Clara  gathered  up  the  eggs  which  she  had  just  collected  in  the 
folds  of  her  blue  gingham  apron,  and  took  her  way  along  the  path  from 
the  big  bam  to  the  house.  She  was  disappointed,  but  she  couldn't  be 
vexed  with  Uncle  Mac.  He  always  meant  to  be  kind — even  when  he 
spoke  sharply  about  Joe  Warner. 

"We  shall  not  be  home  before  five  o'clock,  I  reckon,"  her  uncle 
said,  when  he  drove  up  to  the  door.  "I  want  to  go  round  by  the  hill 
road  and  see  Jake  Brown  about  some  things  while  I'm  over  in  that  part 
of  the  country.  But  you  won't  worry,  staying  here  alone.  You'll  have 
Shep  to  take  care  of  you,  and  he's  as  good  as  a  policeman." 

Clara  was  not  at  all  afraid  to  be  left  alone.  The  beautiful  collie 
who  came  up  and  kissed  her  hand  as  Uncle  Mac  drove  out  through  the 
gate  was  a  better  guard  and  a  more  pleasant  companion  than  many 
human  beings,  and  while  the  hous^  seemed  a  trifle  lonely,  as  it  always 
had  seemed  during  the  week  of  Aunt  Qara's  absence,  the  girl  had  no 
thought  of  any  approaching  danger.  She  brought  her  work  out  into 
the  little  vine-shaded  porch  at  the  side  of  the  house,  thoroughly  resolved 
to  make  the  buttonholes  in  Uncle  Mac's  new  shirt  so  perfectly  that  he 
never  would  remind  her  again  how  much  she  had  to  learn  before  leav- 
ing home.  Shep  lay  down  in  the  shade  at  her  feet,  dozing,  but  with  a 
vigilance  ready  to  wake  at  the  slightest  sound. 

She  felt  him  stir  before  she  herself  had  realized  that  anything 
unusual  was  at  hand ;  and  then,  as  he  bounded  to  his  feet,  she  saw  Joe 
Warner  come  galloping  down  the  lane  on  Kentucky  Jim,  the  fastest 
horse  in  his  father's  stables.  Joe  was  waving  his  wide-brimmed  hat, 
and  shouting  something  which  she  could  not  distinguish.  Uncle 
Mac's  new  shirt  dropped  to  the  porch  floor  unheeded,  as  she  sprang 
up  and  ran  out  to  meet  him. 

"The  reservoir!"  Joe  called  to  her  as  he  reached  the  gate.  "The 
dam  has  broken  at  Stoneborough,  and  the  water  is  coming  down  in  a 
flood, — wiping  out  everything  along  the  gulch !  This  house  is  bound 
to  go.  It  may  not  be  more  than  twenty  minutes  yet.  I  hurried  over  to 
help  you  get  things  out — we  can  carry  them  up  the  bank.  You're  not 
alone?" 

"There's  nobody  here  but  Shep,"  said  Clara,  half  dazed  with  sur- 
prise and  alarm.  "Uncle  Mac  has  gone  to  Pleass^nton  to  bring  Aunt 
Clara  home — and,  oh,  what  shall  I  do  ?    What  can  I  do  ?" 

"Get  your  uncle's  papers  together,  if  you  knpw  where  he  keeps 
them,  and  anything  your  aunt  especially  cares  about,".  Joe  demanded. 
"I'll  run  down  to  the  barn  and  let  Daisy  and  F^  out,  and  V\l  see.  \vhat 
I  can  do  with  the  chickens.     Some  things  will  have  to  go."   . 

Clara  sped  up  the  path  to  the  porch  again.  The  boy^s  copl  firm- 
ness seemed  to  have  passed  into  hj^r  own  quivering,  nerves,  and  his 
words  had  steadied  her  to  an  understanding  of  .the  things  whichjvyere 
most  important  to  be  done  in  this  brief  twenty  minutes. 

Uncle  Mac's  desk  in  the  sitting  room  was  unlocked — she  drew  a 
long  breath  of  relief  at  that.  Snatching  the  plaid  cloth  frorp  the  table, 
she  spread  it  upon  the  floor,  and  hastily  emptied  into  it  the  contents*  of 


19C  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

drawers  and  pigeonholes.  A  heap  of  fine  linen  from  Aunt  Clara's  chest, 
treasured  since  the  days  of  her  grandmother,  followed  the  papers,  and 
then,  knotting  the  comers  of  the  table-cloth  together,  Clara  carried  it 
out  of  the  house  and  hurried  up  the  bank  to  a  ledge  some  thirty  or  forty 
feet  higher. 

"Stand  guard,  Shep!"  she  commanded,  not  knowing  whether  the 
dog  would  obey.  But  he  crouched  beside  the  unwieldly  bundle,  even 
while  his  pathetic  eyes  and  pleailing  tail  besought  her  to  let  him  come 
back  with  her. 

"Good  Shep,  stand  guard!"  she  called  again,  slipping  down  the 
steep  path  to  the  back  gate. 

There  were  still  Aunt  Clara's  dishes,  and  some  of  her  clothing ;  the 
sest-Ioved  books  of  the  household,  and  a  hundred  things  which  it  seemed 
*mpossible  to  leave  to  destruction.  Clara  knew  that  much  which  was 
^ft  in  the  house  might  escape ;  but  if  the  house  should  float  away,  and 
oe  caught  in  a  jam  against  the  railroad  bridge  five  miles  further  down, 
it  might  take  fire  and  bum  in  the  mass  of  wreckage,  as  had  happened 
in  more  than  one  serious  flood.  It  was  cmelly  hard  to  decide  what 
must  be  taken  and  what  must  be  left ;  but  Clara  worked  as  quickly  as 
possible,  hurriedly  gathering  the  few  pieces  of  silver  from  their  shelves, 
sweeping  up  an  armful  of  clothing,  and  laying  out  one  or  two  heavier 
articles  for  Joe  to  carry  if  he  should  come  back  in  time.  ' 

She  heard  his  step  on  the  porch  just  as  she  dragged  out  grand- 
father's oaken  chest  from  the  spare  bedchamber. 

"O  Joe,  do  you  suppose  you  can  manage  to  get  this  up  the  hill?" 
she  cried.  "It's  locked,  and  I  don't  know  what  is  inside,  but  I'm  cer- 
tain that  Uncle  Mac  wouldn't  let  it  be  lost." 

It  was  not  a  very  large,  chest,  solid  as  it  was.  Joe  grasped  it  and 
carried  it,  staggering  slightly  under  its  weight ;  and  Clara  followed  him, 
with  the  articles  which  she  had  selected.  Just  as  they  reached  the 
ledge,  Joe  caught  her  arm  and  bade  her  look. 

Far  up  the  narrow  gulch  the  flood  was  coming,  sweeping  down 
trees  and  houses  as  it  moved. 

"Well,  we're  safe  anyway,"  said  Joe. 

"Oh,  my  poor  tabby!"  Clara  cried  out.  "I  left  her  shut  into  the 
pantry  this  afternoon,  to  catch  a  mouse  that  I  heard  there!  I  can't 
leave  her  to  drown !" 

"You  can't  go  back,"  Joe  declared.  But  she  was  half  way  down 
the  path,  and  he  could  not  let  her  go  alone. 

The  water  had  reached  the  clump  of  willows  at  the  bend  of  the 
gulch  before  Qara  could  unfasten  the  pantry  door.  As  the  cat  sprang 
out,  scurrying  up  the  side  of  the  hill,  a  great  wave  washed  against 
the  porch. 

"Here,  we'll  have  to  run  for  it,"  said  Joe. 

The  yard  was  a  whirling  torrent.  One  large  log  which  had  lain 
in  the  grass  just  within  the  gate  for  some  time  since  the  tree  was  felled, 
oflFerca  an  uncertain  footing.  Steaded  by  Joe's  hand,  Qara  sprang 
upon  it,  and  thence  to  safer  ground.     In  all  the  terror  of  the  moment 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRlENp.  197 

she  could  scarcely  take  her  eyes  from  the  sweeping  breadth  of  water 
which  had  seemed  so  safe  and  quiet  twenty  minutes  earlier. 

"I'm  glad  I  received  the  word  in  time,  Joe  said  gravely,  when  they 
had  reached  the  ledge.  "Now,  if  you'll  pick  out  which  of  these  things 
has  to  be  taken  care  of  first,  we'll  just  carry  them  over  to  our  house. 
We  were  so  high  above  you  there  that  father  thought  there  wouldn't 
be  any  danger  for  us." 

Even  as  he  spoke.  Uncle  Mac's  house  quivered  upon  its  founda- 
tions, slid  forward  and  went  sailing  down  the  gulch ;  and  at  that  sight 
Oara  hid  her  eyes,  safe  though  she  was. 

A  very  anxious  Uncle  Mac  found  her  at  the  Warner  house,  when 
he  drove  home  by  the  hill  road,  having  heard  tales  of  disaster  for  the 
last  ten  miles  of  his'way. 

"How  did  you  get  the  word  in  time?"  he  demanded  of  Joe,  patting 
Oara's  shoulder  as  she  clung  to  him  and  sobbed. 

"Oh,  it  was  over  my  wire,"  Joe  answered,  flushing  slightly.  "That 
fellow  I've  been  practicing  with  in  Kirby — they  had  Sie  news  there,  of 
course,  by  wire  from  Stoneborough — called  me  and  told  me." 

"H'm,"  said  Uncle  Mac,  "I  was  just  telling  this  girl  today,  that 
your  telegraphing  wasn't  of  any  use  in  the  world,  and  she  must  not  ask 
me  to  send  her  to  any  school  where  young  folks  could  pick  up  these 
new-fangled  notions.  But  when  a  boy's  fad  has  saved  my  niece,  and 
most  of  my  hens  and  stock,  and  my  business  papers  and  the  bonds  and 
policies  in  grandfather's  chest — why,  I  may  have  to  give  in  that  it's  of 
some  use,  after  all.  See  here,  Clara,  will  you  stop  crying  if  I  say  you 
can  go  to  the  Academy?" 


IF. 
How  queer  we  should  have  looked 

If  babies  one  and  all, 
Had  just  kept  growing  round 
Instead  of  growing  tall ! 

—Eva  O. 


20b 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


in  vain  for  it  on  the  floor,  he  happened  to  get  hold  of  one  of  the  smallest 
pears  which  he  had  turned,  and  had  given  to  the  children  to  play  with. 
"I  cannot  find  the  button,"  said  the  man,  "but  this  little  thing  will 
answer." 

He  pulled  a  small  cord  through  the  little  pear,  and  it  filled  the 
place  of  the  broken  button  beautifully ;  it  was  exactly  right,  and  formed 
the  best  of  fasteners.  The  next  time  that  he  had  to  send  umbrella 
handles  and  rings  to  the  city,  he  added  to  the  number  a  few  of  the 
small  wooden  pears  which  he  had  turned. 

They  were  fastened  to  a  few  new  umbrellas  which  were  sent 
abroad  with  a  thousand  others.  The  little  pear  was  soon  found  to  hold 
best,  and  the  umbrella  merchant  gave  orders,  that  all  umbrellas  to  be 
sent  to  him  after  that  should  be  fastened  with  the  little  wooden  pear. 

Large  orders  were  to  be  supplied ;  thousands  of  pears  to  be  made ; 
woodien  pears  on  all  umbrellas,  and  our  man  was  kept  busy  at  work. 
He  turned  and  turned ;  the  whole  pear-tree  was  used  for  little  wooden 
pears,  which  brought  dimes  that  grew  into  doU&rs. 

"In  that  pear-tree  my  luck  was  placed,"  said  the  man;  and  soon 
after  he  had  a  great  workshop,  with  plenty  of  women  and  boys  to  help 
him.  Now  he  was  all  the  time  in  gwxl  humor;  for  Luck  and  Labor 
were  walking  hand  in  hand  .-^Selected. 


EAMSTRESS. 


ded,"  Ruthie  said. 
:er  to  be  — 
I  '11  sew  some  now,  and,  if  you  like, 
My  stitches  you  can  see !  " 


y 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  209 


TRY  FIRST. 

"I  shall  never  amount  to  anything,  and  I  do  not  see  what  I  am  in 
the  world  for." 

John  Lawson  yawned  even  while  he  spoke  these  hopeless  words. 
He  was  speaking  to  his  aunt  who  was  running  the  sewing  machine, 
and  had  hardly  understood  a  word  he  said.  He  repeated  his  com- 
plainings with  a  little  more  force  and  added,  "Nothing  I  undertake  will 
ever  amount  to  anything. 

His  aunt  heard  him  then,  and  without  looking  around,  said,  "Try 
first,  and  draw  your  conclusions  afterward.  Undertake  something  and 
undertake  it  soon.  You  have  no  reason  to  say  what  you  are  sa)dng 
since  you  have  made  little  or  no  effort.  I  notice  that  people  who  try 
the  least,  complain  the  most  of  ill-luck." 
"You  never  sympathize  with  a  feller." 

"Don't  call  yourself  a  'feller.'  You  surely  can  be  more  careful  of 
your  language,  but  this  comes  from  the  same  lack  of  painstaking  which 
is  blighting  your  prospects.  To  be  plain  with  you,  John,  you  are 
inclined  to  indolence." 

"I  guess  ril  go  out  and  find  some  one  to  talk  to  who  has  more 
regard  for  my  feelings." 

"No;  don't  go  out,  John.  You  do  that  too  much.  You  seem 
always  to  try  to  get  away  from  yourself.  Face  this  matter.  Let  us 
talk  it  over  without  glossing  over  unpleasant  facts.  Until  you  are  will- 
ing to  see  yourself  in  the  true  light  there  will  be  no  amendment  of  your 
faults." 

"Where  shall  we  begin,  Aunt  Mary?" 

"Begin  at  the  beginning.  .  You  played  truant  when  you  were  a 
little  schoolboy,  because  it  was  easier,  and  more  agreeable  to  your  feel- 
ings to  saunter  about  in  the  sunshine,  than  to  bend  over  your  lessons 
in  the  schoolroom ;  and  ever  since  you  have  been  looking  for  the  easiest 
way  to  do  a  thing,  and  the  easiest  thing  to  do." 

"It  is  a  wonder  you  admit  that  I  want  to  do  anything." 
"Do  you,  John?"  asked  his  aunt,  as  she  turned  again  to  her  sewing. 
John  sat  considering  her  question.  "Do  I  really  want  to  do  any- 
thing." He  repeated  this  over  and  over  in  his  mind.  He  was  eighteen 
years  old,  and  he  had  never  tried  to  help  his  aunt,  nor  had  he  in  any 
way  contributed  toward  his  own  support.  This  stubborn  fact  faced 
him,  and  he  began  to  think  it  small  wonder  that  his  aunt  did  not  sym- 
pathize with  him.  He  watched  her  quick  movements,  and  could  not 
forget  that  though  weary  she  did  not  slacken  her  efforts.  He  needed  a 
new  suit  of  clothes,  and  she  would  have  to  work  harder  than  ever  to 
buy  them. 

He  sat  listening  to  the  sewing  machine  as  it  still  rattled  on.  It 
was  nearly  worn  out,  a  fact  which  fretted  both  John  and  his  aunt,  for 
they  knew  that  it  stood  for  their  bread  and  clothing. 

"I  guess  I'll  go  out.     I  am  going  this  time  for  a  different  purpose," 


210  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

said  John,  ^treing  his  aunt  stop  her  work  long  enough  to  wipe  a  sus- 
picious moisture  from  her  eyes.  He  had  refused  work  that  day  be- 
cause it  was  hard,  but  he  began  to  see  that  someone  was  doing  hard 
work  that  he  might  be  kept  comfortable,  and  he  started  up  quickly, 
lest  his  courage  should  fail  him  to  go,  and  see  if  the  place  was  still  open. 

It  was,  and  he  returned  soon  with  not  a  little  added  self-respect. 

**How  early  can  we  have  breakfast  tomorrow  morning,  Aunt 
Mary?  I  am  going  to  work  for"  Weeks  &  Lyons.  They  told  me 
today  that  I  ought  to  be  putting  my  muscle  to  some  use,  and  I  am 
beginning  to  think  so,  too." 

Aunt  Mary  was  going  to  say,  "I  thought  so  for  a  long  time,"  but 
said  instead,  '*I  am  very  glad,  John." 

And  very  glad  she  was,  but  rejoiced  with  trembling.  Would  her 
nephew  stick  to  any  work?  and  this  was  hard  work. 

"Aunt  Mary,  see  that  I  am  up  in  time,"  said  John,  as  he  went  to 
bed  early. 

Long  after  he  slept  his  aunt  worked  on,  and  thought  of  other  days. 
Days  when  she  had  taken  her  little  nephew  into  her  lonely  home  think- 
ing, possibly,  to  partially  fill  up  the  yawning  gap  caused  by  the  early 
death  of  her  husband.  Her  affections  had  twined  about  the  boy,  but 
he  had  not  shown  a  just  appreciation  of  her  love  and  care.  Was  the 
time  approaching  w.hen  he  would  show  the  same  unselfish  love?  when 
she  might  lean,  if  ever  so  little,  on  him? 

Unconsciously  the  color  came  to  her  faded  cheeks,  hope  revived, 
and  she  began  to  indulge  the  expectation  of  days  to  come  when  she 
could  rest,  and  depend  on  him  who  had  been  only  a  care. 

The  morning  came  too  soon  for  her  aching  head,  but  she  arose  to 
prepare  the  breakfast.  John  came  down  stairs  without  being  called, 
whistling  as  he  came.  He  was  passing  by  his  aunt  when  she  laid  a 
hand  on  him  and  said,  "John,  you  are  going  to  succeed.  I  feel  sure 
of  it." 

A  smile  lighted  up  his  face  as  he  listened  to  her  hopeful  words. 
He  kissed  her  for  the  first  time  in  a  whole  year,  and  said,  "Thank  you. 
Aunt  Mary,  your  faith  in  me  will  help  me  to  succeed." 

He  appeared  taller,  handsomer  and  kinder  than  ever  before,  and 
she  whispered  what  was  intended  for  God's  ear  only,  "Thou  hast  not 
been  unmindful  of  my  prayers." 

John  heard  the  soft-spoken  words  and  said  sadly,  "I  am  sorry  that 
I  have  disappointed  you  so  long."  ^ 

"And  I  am  sorry  that  I  did  not  repose  confidence  in  you  sooner, 
since  that  is  likely  to  help  you." 

"How  could  you,  aunt,  when  I  had  done  nothing  to  win  it?" 

The  days  of  that  first  week  seemed  long  to  John  Lawson,  but  when 
they  were  ended,  and  he  carried  home  ten  dollars,  he  was  a  happy  boy. 
Aunt  Marv  had  not  felt  so  rich  in  vears.  Not  because  she  had  not. 
herself,  earned  ten  dollars  in  a  week,  for  she  often  did,  but  because 
there  was  now  a  new  source  of  income. 

When  Christmas  came  John  brought  home  a  new  sewing  machine 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  211 

and  said,  "There,  Aunt  Mary,  if  you  must  sew,  sew  on  something  that 
runs  easier  and  makes  less  noise/' 

"John,  you  are  a  great  comfort  to  me,"  she  said. 

"Am  I?"  he  asked,  in  a  pleased  tone,  "then  this  is  the  proudest 
and  the  happiest  day  of  my  life.  Perhaps  1  shall  "be  worth  something 
in  the  world  after  all." 


NOT  NAUGHTY,  ONLY  FOOLISH. 

Here  is  a  fable  that  I  wish  you  to  read,  to  see  if  you  know  what 
it  means : 

"My  dear  child,"  said  the  Angel-who-attends-to-things,  "why  are 
you  crying  so  very  hard?" 

"Oh,  dear!  Oh,  dear!"  said  the  child.  "No  one  ever  had  such 
a  dreadful  time  before,  I  do  believe,  and  it  all  comes  of  trying  to  be 
good.  Oh,  dear!  Oh,  dear!  I  wish  I  was  bad;  then  I  should  not 
have  all  this  trouble!" 

"Yes,  you  would,"  said  the  Angel;  "a  great  deal  worse.  Now, 
tell  me,  my  child,  what  is  the  matter." 

"Look!"  said  the  child,  "mother  gave  me  this  skein  to  wind,  and 
I  promised  to  do  it.  But  father  sent  me  on  an  errand,  and  it  was 
almost  school  time,  and  I  was  studying  my  lesson  and  going  on  the 
errand  and  winding  the  skein,  all  at  the  same  time;  and  now  I  have 
got  all  tangled  up  in  the  wool,  and  I  cannot  walk  either  forward  or 
backward,  and,  oh,  dear  me,  whatever  shall  I  do?" 
Sit  down !''  said  the  Angel. 
But  it  is  school  time!"  said  the  child. 

"Sit  down!"  said  the  Angel. 

"But — father  sent  me  on  an  errand,"  said  the  child. 

"Sit  down !"  said  the  Angel,  and  he  took  the  child  by  the  shoulders 
and  set  her  down. 

"Now,  sit  still!"  he  said,  and  began  patiently  to  wind  up  the  skein. 
It  was  woefully  tangled  and  knotty  about  the  child's  hands  and  feet — 
it  was  a  wonder  she  could  move  at  all ;  but  at  last  it  was  all  clear,  and 
the  Angel  handed  her  the  ball. 

"I  thank  you  so  very  much!"  said  the  child.  "I  was  not  naughty, 
was  I?" 

"Not  naughty,  only  foolish ;  but  that  does  just  as  much  harm 
sometimes." 

"But  I  was  doing  right  things !"  said  the  child. 

"But  you  were  doing  them  in  the  wrong  way,"  said  the  Angel. 
"It  is  good  to  do  an  errand,  and  it  is  good  likewise  to  go  to  school,  but 
when  you  have  a  skein  to  wind  vou  must  sit  still." — The  Silver  Crown. 


AN    INTERESTING    CALLER. 


5F§B  BABY'S  i>BSR 

lacilaies  see  lr)is  aueep,  aueep  Ir)ii)al  Will  if 
i)up1  usT  e.ar)  il  slirra?  ©ee,  if  n)o^es,  lauf 
iT)»^es  s®  slaw,  we  caulo  rut)  ar)a  Ijiae  v«u  ^i)®^)^. 
j©aW  leaders,  €5ue  Bir)o  -I-S15,  cai)  v®u  fell  us  uJtjat 
if  IS?  JT-as  il  oerrje  aoresa  trje  plctii),  wif  r)  trie  opril 
wina  arja  rairj?  lT/aiT)aj  see  fl)is  n)ir|g  s®  aueer! 
«/lpPil- ceur)ts  feup  ii)  t^  yeap.  Weap  Hatr)er  m 
neavei),  wifl)  all  M^ijou  l}asf  rT)aae,  lef  rf^r^z  ®f  I  Ky 
Wlsies    az  nupf  ap  afpaia. 


JUST  FOR  FUN. 

HE  HAD  BEEN  THERE. 

"I  guess  my  father  must  have  been  a  pretty 
bad  boy,"  said  one  youngster. 

"Why?"  inquired  the  other. 

"Because  he  knows  exactly  what  questions 
to  ask  when  he  wants  to  know  what  I  have 
been  doing." — Our  Young  Folks. 

Little  Mary,  having  fallen  in  the  mud,  got 
her  mother  to  write  the  following  note:  "Dear 
Teacher:  Kindly  excuse  Mary  for  having  been 
absent  yesterday,  as  she  fell  in  the  mud  on  the 
way  to  school.  By  doing  the  same  you  will 
oblige  her  mother." — Lippincott's. 

Tommy  went  fishing  the  other  day  without  his  mother's  permis- 
sion. The  next  morning  one  of  his  chums  met  him  and  asked :  "Did 
you  catch  anything  yesterday,  Tommy?"  "Not  till  I  got  home,"  was 
the  rather  sad  response. 

Little  Fred  was  visiting  his  grandmother  in  the  country  and  was 
watching  the  turkeys.  "Look,  grandmother,"  he  said ;  "the  old  gobbler 
has  had  his  fan  up  for  half  an  hour  and  his  face  is  as  red  as  if  he  were 
not  a  bit  cooler," — The  Canadian  Epworth  Era. 

Peculiar  Qualifications :  "In  choosing  his  men,"  said  the  Sabbath 
School  superintendent,  "Gideon  did  not  select  those  who  laid  aside  their 
arms  and  threw  themselves  down  to  drink ;  he  took  those  who  watched 
with  one  eye  and  drank  with  the  other." — Exchange. 

A  man  named  Wood  met  a  friend  whose  name  was  Stone.  "Good 
morning,  Mr.  Stone,"  he  said;  "and  how  are  Mrs.  Stone  and  all  the 
little  pebbles?"  "Oh,  quite  well,  Mr.  Wood,"  was  the  reply.  "How 
are  Mrs.  Wood  and  all  the  little  splinters?" 

The  closing  exercises  began  with  the  displaying  of  a  portrait  of 
Geoi^  Washington.    "Who  is  this?"  the  teacher  asked. 

The  children  sat  mute  and  unresponsive,  till  finally  one  little  fellow 
piped  up. 

"I  know  who  it  is,"  he  shouted.  "We  got  that  picture  at  home. 
Mamma  told  me  who  it  is."  He  swelled  with  pride.  "It's  our  father 
from  the  country,"  he  said. 

Four-year-old  Bari>ara  went  to  church  with  her  two  sisters,  and 
came  home  crying.  "What  is  the  matter,  dear?"  inquired  her  mother. 
"He  preached  a  whole  s-sermon — about — M-Mary  and  Martha,"  sobbed 
Barbara,  "and  n-never  said  a  w-word  about  me." 


OFFICERS'  DEPARTMENT 


Tlie  General  Board  of  Primary  Associations,  in 
consultation  with  the  brethren  from  the  Council  of  the 
Twelve  acting  as  Advisory  members  of  the  Board,  have 
decided  upon  a  change  of  plan  for  the  Primary  -Teachers 
Course,  which  we  trust  will  meet  with  the  approval  of 
all. 

Confident  that  nothing  we  might  take  up  in  con- 
vention work  throughout  the  many  Stakes  of  Zion  would 
result  in  as  much  good  as  the  instructions  to  be  giren 
in  the  course,  it  has  been  deemed  wise  not  to  hold 
conventions  this  year.  In  other  words,  we  will  not 
visit  you,  but  invite  you  to  come  to  us. 

The  General  Board  offers  to-  pay  transportation, 
railway  or  necessary  stage  fare,  of  one  Stake  Board 
member  from  each  Stake  in  the  Church  who  will  attend 
the  Primary  Teachers  Course  to  be  given  in  the  Bishop's 
Building,  S,alt  Lake  City,  beginning  APRIL  28,  1913. 
This  change  of  date  has  been  made  for  two  purposes: 
To  give  Stake  officers  time  to  reconsider  their  plans, 
and,  also,  that  we  may  close  our  Course  with  a  rousing 
June  Conference,  at  which,  we  hope,  every  Stake  in  the 
Church  will  have  representation. 

One  important  feature  of  this  proposition  MUST 
NOT  be  overlooked.   A  ONE  WAY  TICKET  to  Salt  Lake 
should  be  purchased,  taking  a  RECEIPT  for  the  same 
from  ticket  agent  or  conductor.  The  amount  of  the 
ticket  will  be  refunded  by  the  General  Board  upon 
presentation  of  this  RECEIPT. 

The  only  expense  to  the  Stakes,  aside  from  board 
and  rooms,  will  be  the  entrance  fee  ($10.00)  to  the 
Primary  Teachers  Course,  and  $4.00  for  material  used 
in  Domestic  Science  and  Handwork. 

Classes  will  convene  at  £ : 30  and  11  o'clock 
a.m.,  and  at  3:30  and  4:30  p.m.  with  the  exception  of 
Saturdays,  when  class  will  be  held  only  in  the  fore- 
noon. These  hours  are  subject  to  change. 

Representatives  should  be  in  Salt  Lake  April  26, 
the  date  of  registration.  Pupils  may  register  on  this 
date  between  the  hours  of  9:30  and  12  a.  m.  ,  and  2  and 
5  p.m.  at  the  office  of  the  General  Board. 

A  pair  of  bloomers  and  blouse  or  middy  for  gym- 
nasium work  are  needed,  also,  note  books  and  pencils. 
No  text  books  will  be  required. 

Furnished  rooms  may  be  obtained  from  $2.00  up 
per  week;  rooms  and  board,  from  $4.00  up  per  week; 
furnished  housekeeping  apartments 'at  various  prices. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  215 

THE  PRIMARY  TEx\CHERS'  COURSE. 
Notice:    Class  work  begins  April  28th, 

The  purpose  of  the  Primary  Teachers*  Course  is  to  further  the  in- 
terest of  the  Primary  work  by  developing  the  individual  powers  of  the 
teacher. 

The  idea  had  its  origin  in  years  of  experience  with  the  inexperi- 
enaced — women  lacking  the  trained  qualifications  of  the  teacher, 
yet  learned  in  the  ways  of  love  and  human  helpfulness;  strong  in  the 
desire  to  serve  God.  For  these  instructors  of  our  children  a  course  of 
study  has  been  planned  that  will  tend  to  broaden  their  efficiency,  and 
give  the  largest  possible  opportunity  for  self  development  and  practice 
in  the  art  of  conducting  classes.  The  curriculum  is  as  broad  as  the 
limited  period  of  time  would  permit,  -and  the  work  so  arranged  as  to 
afford  relief  through  variety  and  change. 

A  six  week's  course  of  instruction,  to  be  held  in  the  Bishop's 
Building,  beginning  April  28,  1913.  Subjects  iLesson  Development, 
Stories  and  Story  Telling,  Music,  Physical  Training,  Domestic  Science, 
and  Handwork.  Headquarters  at  the  General  Board  office  rooms  in  the 
Bishop's  Building.  Pupils  may  register  between  the  hours  of  9.30  and 
12  a.  m.  and  2  and  5  p.  m.  Saturday,  April  26th. 

Terms:     Entrance  Fee,  $10.00 

Materials  for  Domestic  Science  and  Handwork,  $4.00. 

Suits  and  slippers  for  gymnasium  work  are  needed;  also  note 
books,  pencils,  etc. 

Board  and  rooms  may  be  had  at  rates  ranging  from  $4.00  to  $5.00 
a  week,  and  furnished  rooms  from  $2.00  to  $3.00.  Housekeeping 
apartments  available  at  various  prices. 

Assistance  in  finding  suitable  places  to  stay  will  be  given  by  Sister 
Zina  Y.  Card  to  all  who  apply. 

Entrance  fee  and  price  of  materials  for  Domestic  Science  and 
Handwork,  strictly  in  advance.  Stakes  sending  two  or  more  delegates 
to  specialise,  may  do  so  on  one  entrance  fee  by  dividing  the  course,  no 
two  entering  the  same  class. 

Classes  will  convene  during  the  following  hours: 

Music — Mondays,  Wednesdays,  and  Friday,  9 :30  a.  m. 

Domestic  Science— Mondays,  Wednesdays,  and  Fridays,  3 :30  p.  m. 

Stories  and  Story  Telling— Tuesdays  and  Thursdays,  9 :30  a.  m. ; 
Fridays,  4 :30  p.  m. 

Lesson  Development — Tuesdays,    Wednesdays,    and    Thursdays, 

4:30  p.  m. 

Physical  Training — Every  day  except  Saturday  at  11  a.  m. 


210  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Hanawork — Saturdays,  9 :00  a.  m. 

Instructors — Lesson  Development,  Edith  Hunter;  Stories  and 
Story  Telling,  Frances  K.  Thomassen ;  Music,  Emma  Ramsey  Morris ; 
Physical  Training,  Anna  Nebeker ;  Domestic  Science,  Margaret  Hull ; 
Handwork,  Laura  L.  Foster.     Matron,  Zina  Y.  Card. 

During  the  Course,  lectures  will  be  given  in  the  story  department 
by  Prof.  Wm.  M.  Stewart,  Prof.  Howard  R.  Driggs,  Prof.  J.  H.  Paul, 
Mary  B.  Fox,  and  Amy  Bowman,  all  of  the  University  of  Utah.  In 
other  departments  there  will  be  lectures  by  E.  H.  Eastmond,  Art  Super- 
visor B.  Y.  University,  Provo;  Harvey  Gardner,  U.  of  U. ;  Ed.  P. 
Kimball,  Assistant  Tabernacle  Organist;  W.  A.  Wetzell,  Supervisor 
Music,  Public  Schools,  Salt  Lake  City,  and  others. 

LESSON  DEVELOPMENT. 

The  Lesson ;  an  effort  to  realize  the  aim  of  the  Primary  Association. 

The  meaning  and  need  of  preparation. 

The  Review ;  connecting  the  previous  lesson  with  the  new. 

The  art  of  questioning. 

Reading  of  text  and  gathering  of  material ;  illustration. 

Choosing  the  aim ;  vsdue ;  how  determined ;  qualifications. 

Outlining  the  subject  matter,  or  grouping. 

Illustration  and  enforcement. 

Application ;  its  meaning. 

How  to  prepare  a  lesson. 

The  presentation  of  the  lesson.  ^ 

How  to  conduct  the  Social  Hour.  How  to  conduct  the  Busy  Hour. 
How  to  conduct  the  Story  Hour. 

Demonstration  and  results. 

Special  lectures  will  be  given  in  this  department  by  prominent 
educators. 

STORIES  AND  STORY  TELLING. 

Stories  and  Story  Telling — ^The  Purpose  of  the  Story  in  our  Pri- 
mary Association;  The  Story:  What  Is  It?  Stories,  True  and  False; 
The  Moral  Story,  The  Fairy  Tale,  good  and  bad ;  Pioneer  Stories,  Hero 
Tales,  Children  Story  Writers,  How  to  Tell  Stories,  How  to  Read 
Stories,  Dramatizing  Stories,  The  Fable  and  the  Parable,  Bible  Stories, 
Book  of  Mormon  Stories,  Biography,  Animal  Stories,  Nursery  Stories, 
and  Story  Books. 

MUSIC. 

General  discussion  of  musical  conditions  in  the  various  stakes. 
Talk  on  the  necessity  of  a  better  class  of  music  in  our  organizations. 
The  necessity  of  an  aim  in  our  songs  and  instrumental  music. 
How  to  raise  the  standard  of  music  in  our  Primary  work. 
The  relationship  of  music  to  character  formation  and  mental  de- 
velopment. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  217 

How  the  music  may  be  made  to  correlate  with  the  lesson  work. 

How  to  study  the  words  and  their  spiritual  meaning. 

How  to  teach  the  melody ;  the  words ;  part  singing. 

How  to  express  the  spirit  of  the  song ;  religious ;  patriotic,  etc. 

Practical  demonstration ;  written  and  oral  reviews. 

Value  of  motion  songs  and  rest  exercises ;  development  of  motion 
song  and  song  play. 

March  music ;  value  of  a  good  march ;  how  to  march ;  development 
of  marching  song. 

Value  of  patriotic  songs  in  Primary  work ;  how  to  awaken  patriot- 
ism for  home,  country,  Church ;  demonstration. 

Value  of  preliminary  music ;  kind ;  demonstration. 

How  to  play  the  organ  to  get  the  best  results  in  marching  and 
singing. 

The  inexperienced  chorister;  her  possibilities. 

The  mission  of  the  song  in  teaching  the  Gospel. 

General  instructions. 

PHYSICAL  TRAINING. 

The  aim  of  all  education  is  to  develop  efficiency  for  life's  work. 
Life  is  a  gift  of  God,  and  the  physical  is  no  less  sacred  than  its  moral 
and  spiritual  manifestations. 

In  this  course  we  shall  attempt  to  show  the  purpose  of  physical 
training  in  its  broadest  sense;  also  its  relationship  to  Primary  work; 
*  giving  material  not  only  for  the  children,  but  for  the  personal  benefit 
of  the  teachers. 

The  following  subjects  are  to  be  considered  in  a  general  way; 
Divinity  of  the  human  form  and  organism ;  Position  and  functions  of 
organs;  Causes  of  ill  health;  Meaning  of  normal  health.  Anthro- 
pqwytry,  Physical  diagnosis.  General  physical  examination  with  heart 
and  lung  test.  Physical  measurements  for  purpose  of  determining 
pb^ical  condition  of  the  individual  that  proper  exercise  may  be  pre- 
s<snf>ed.  Purpose  of  systematic  exercise;  Methods  of  physical  train- 
ings; First  aid  to  the  injured;  The  nature  of  play  with  its  uses,  and 
m^ods  of  conducting  play  activities  in  and  out  of  doors. 

;.>.Character  of  demonstrations  and  socials  and  methods  of  conduct- 
ing Folk  dancing.  Classification  of  materials  for  play,  games,  etc. 
for  the  children. 

General  body  building  exercises  will  be  g^ven  to  correct  posture, 
stimulate  the  processes  of  digestion,  circulation,  respiration,  etc. ;  to 
train  the  will,  develop  courage,  self-reliance,  skill,  etc.,  for  the  benefit  of 
the  teachers  particularly,  that  they  may  be  better  prepared  to  direct  the 
children.  Observation  work  of  regular  gjrmnasium  classes  with  group 
tasks  will  be  given,  besides  regular  practical  teaching  in  methods  class. 


218  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


DOMESTIC  SCIENCE.  I 


Value  of  Domestic  Science. 
Use  of  utensils ;  measuring. 
'     Practical  demonstration ;  Toast  and  White  sauce. 
Foods — Classes  and  Their  Uses. 

A  study  of  water ;  composition,  boiling  point  at  different  altitudes, 
hard  or  soft  water,  etc.     Typical  protein  foods;  effects   of 
cooking. 
Demonstration — Eggs:  Soft  and  hard  cooked,  poached,  omelet; 
ways  of  preserving ;  ways  of  testing  freshness. 
Milk. 

Food  value,  composition,  cooling,  souring  of,  etc.     Combinations 

of  eggs  and  milk. 
Demonstration — Cream  of  Tomato  soup,  and  custard. 
Sanitation. 

Care  of  milk  in  the  home.     Propen  care  of  refrigerators,  cellars 
and  milk  houses. 
Study  of  Cereals  and  Ways  of  Cooking. 

Demonstration — Cream    of    Wheat,    Rolled    Oats.       Mold    with 
fruit.      Muffins. 
Study  of  Cocoa,  Flours,  Baking  Powders. 

Demonstration — Cocoa  and  baking  ponder  biscuits. 
Sanitation. 

The  home.     A  consideration  of  sanitary  house  construction. 
Study  of  Vegetables. 

Experiments  with  starch. 

Demonstration — Stuffed  baked  potato;  cooking  of  several  kinds 
with  and  without  lid,  with  and  without  salt,  etc. ;  ways  of  pre- 
paring, creamed,  sauted,  etc. 
Combination  of  Different  Foods. 

Demonstration — Macaroni  and  cheese.     Plain  rice  pudding. 
Sanitation. 

House  furnishings.     Study  of  suitable  colors  and  combinations. 
Bread. 

History,  good  bread,  fool  value,  etc.     Yeast:  growth,  food,  tem- 
perature, etc. 
Demonstration — Making  a  loaf.     Rolls  and  buns. 
Sanitation. 

A  study  of  ventilation,  lighting,  plumbing,  etc. 
Cakes. 

Food  value,  tests  for  baking,  etc. :  leavening  accents. 
Demonstration — Sponge  and  butter  cakes,  doughnuts,  deep  fat  fry. 
Sanitation. 

Methods  of  cleaning ;  disposal  of  wastes ;  laundry  work. 
Studv  of  Meat  and  Fish. 

Demonstration — Meat  balls  and  fish  loaf. 
Salads. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  PRIENL).  219 

Fruit,  vegetable  and  meat. 
Sandwiches  and  Lemonade.  , 

Sanitation. 

Ethics  of  health,  care  of  the  sick  in  the  home. 

HANDWORK. 

1.  Introductory  Talk. 

a.*    The  purpose  of  Handwork. 

To  develop  the  child  mentally,  morally,  and  physically. 
In  regard  to  mental  advancement,  it  is  plainly  shown  after 
working  a  short  time  with  any  form  of  handwork,  that  in  order 
to  have  good  results,  it  requires  thought  and  attention.  While 
the  child  is  thus  engaged  he  is  taught,  unconsciously,  valuable 
lessons  in  independence,  self-reliance,  carefulness,  accuracy, 
patience,  perseverance,  and  especially  does  it  develop  the 
powers  of  concentration.  It  instills  a  taste  for  labor  and 
inspires  respect  for  those  who  are  engaged  in  manual  occupa- 
tions. It  should  aim  to  train  the  eye  and  give  general  dex- 
terity. 

2.  Paper  Folding. 

a.  Measurement. 

b.  Forms. 

c.  Boxes  of  various  shapes. 

3.  Cardboard  Work. 

a.     Measuring,  scoring,  cutting,  bending,  pasting,  tying,  dec- 
orating. 

4.  Demonstration  of  simple  forms  in  wood. 

5.  String  work  (twine  holder  and  bag). 

6.  Spool  work  (doll  cap  and  mat). 
'7.     Weaving  (corhmunity  rug). 

8.  Sewing. 

a.  Sampler. 

Stitches:     Bastmg,    running,    back  stitch,    overhand, 
feather  stitch,  herring-bone,  button  hole. 

b.  Application. 

9.  Crocheting. 

a.  Stitches:     Chain,  single,  double,  treble  crochet. 

b.  Application. 

Dolls,  balls,  bag,  slippers,  jacket. 

10.  Basketry. 

a.  RafHa. 

b.  Reeds. 

c.  Combination  of  raffia  and  reeds. 

Application  must  be  of  interest  to  the  child,  useful,  within  his 
capacity,  completed  in  a  reasonable  length  of  time,  and  tend  to  serve 
the  purpose  for  which  it  was  created. 


LESSON  DEPARTMENT 


Subject  for  tbe  Aontb:    Morft. 

LESSON  SEVENTEEN. 

The  Lesson  Hour. 

SUGGESTIONS   FOR  ALL  THE  TEACHERS. 

Reports  are  coming  in  which  tell  how  the  new  lesson  plans  are 
being  received.  In  every  case  reported  where  the  programs  are  car- 
ried out  as  suggested  the  results  are  very  gratifying,  teachers  and  chil- 
dren enjoying  the  work  thoroughly.  Some  of  the  workers  fear  that 
there  will  be  fewer  opportunities  to*  teach  religion.  This  is  a  mistake, 
the  new  plan  increases  the  opportunities  to  teach  the  principles  of  our 
faith  by  presenting  them  to  the  children  through  the  familiar  aspects 
of  daily  life.  The  Latter-day  Saints  believe  in  a  practical  religion 
which  is  to  enter  into  every  phase  of  life  and  not  one  that  may  only  be 
observed  on  the  Sabbath  or  in  a  meeting.  To  teach  order,  reverence, 
cleanliness,  etc.,  is  a  part  of  our  religion  and  the  Primary  associations 
have  the  best  of  opportunities  to  help  the  boys  and  girls  to  appreciate 
the  value  of  putting  religion  into  all  the  activities  of  life.  We  teach 
the  children  that  "What  is  worth  doing  at  all,  is  worth  doing  well." 
This  statement  should  be  as  definite  and  of  equal  force  in  the  carrying  * 
out  of  the  instructions  given  to  us  by  the  right  authority.  The  plans 
adopted  were  carefully  considered  before  they  were  accepted  and  with 
the  idea  in  mind  of  improving  the  work  of  the  Primary  associations. 
The  plans  should  be  given  a  fair  trial  and  if  then,  they  do  not  produce 
the  results  expected  they  should  be  modified  by  those  whose  duty  and 
privilege  it  is  to  direct  the  lessons  for  the  associations  throughout  the 
Qiurch. 

FIRST  GRADE. 

■ 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text.    Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  4. 

Other  Materials, 
Memory  Gem. 
Games. 
Songs. 
Pictures. 
Rest  Exercises. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  111 

Aim. 

Work  well  and  honestly  done  brings  satisfaction  to  ourselves  and 
blessings  from  the  Lord. 

Illustration. 

"Runaway  Ralph/'      The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  5,  page  92. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teaeher,  This  lesson  should  create  in  the 
minds  of  the  children  a  desire  to  do.  Little  people  are  full  of  energ}- 
and  can  easily  be  made  to  feel  tliat  to  be  a  "little  helper**  is  a  great 
privilege. 

All  the  lessons  so  far  have  been  closely  related  and  this  one,  too. 
l^Tows  nicely  out  of  the  last,  so  you  can  prepare  the  way  by  a  brief 
review. 

With  the  little  people  in  this  grade  you  will  perhaps  begin  in  the 
lioine,  as  that  is  nearest  to  the  child. 

Where  is  your  father?  What  does  he  do?  Why  does  he  work? 
Who  is  it  who  helps  your  father  that  you  may  have  these  things  ?  What 
does  mother  do?  From  this  point  lead  them  farther  to  the  thought 
that  many  other  people  help  father  and  mother,  and  make  it  possible 
for  them  to  enjoy  the  many  things  they  eat  and  wear,  etc.  When  so 
many  people  help  us  what  can  we  do  to  help  ? 

There  are  many  songs  and  rest  exercises  which  you  have  already 
used  which  will  fit  in  nicely  with  this  lesson. 

Memory  Gem. 

"No  matter  what  you  try  to  do, 

At  home  or  at  your  school, 
Always  do  your  very  best. 
That  is  no  better  rule.'* 

SECOND  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text:    Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  4. 

Other  Materials, 
Memorv  Gem. 
Poems. 
Games. 
Songs. 
Pictures. 

Aim. 

Work  well  and  honestly  done  brings  satisfaction  to  ourselves  and 
blessings  from  the  Lord. 

Illustration. 

"Tommy's  Share."    The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  5.  page  442:  or 


222  •     THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

"Mother  Nature's  House  Cleaning,"  The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  5, 
page  174. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher,  The  recitation  of  the  memory  gems 
is  an  important  part  of  the  review.  This  exercise  may  be  varied  by 
having  one'  gem  recited  by  the  boys,  another  by  the  girls,  and  others 
by  individual  members. 

In  the  review  lead  up  to  and  impress  the  thought  that  each  child 
is  an  important  part  of  the  family  circle.  Lead  him  still  farther  into 
the  school  and  the  associations  and  help  him  to  feel  that  he  is  also  a 
part  of  a  larger  family  circle  where  others  minister  to  him  in  many 
ways,  and  where  he  can  with  others  give  back  some  of  the  things  which 
he  enjoys.  By  stories,  suggestions  or  questions  lead  him  to  thank  the 
kindly  hands  who  do  so  much  for  him.  This  feeling  of  strengthened 
gratitude  must  show  itself  in  action.  Many  people  have  done  for  me, 
what  can  I  do  to  help?  Impress,  too,  the  truth  that  he  cannot  do  for 
others  without  doing  for  himself  also. 

Let  your  songs  and  rest  exercises  be  related  to  the  truth  in  your 
lesson. 

"Tommy's  Share"  is  an  especially  strong  story  for  this  lesson,  but 
if  this  one  cannot  be  had  another  may  be  substituted. 

Memory  Gem. 

"Find  out  what  God  would  have  you  do. 

And  do  that  little  well ; 
For  what  is  great  and  what  is  small 

'Tis  only  He  can  tell." 


Poem.     "A  Little  Sermon. 


» 


"Never  a  day  is  lost,  dear, 

If  at  night  you  can  truly  say 
You've  done  one  kindly  deed,  dear, 

Or  smoothed  some  rugged  way. 

"Never  a  day  is  dark,  dear, 

Where  the  sunshine  of  home  may  fall, 
And  where  the  sweet  home  voices 

May  answer  when  you  call. 

"Never  a  day  is  sad,  dear. 

If  it  brings  at  set  of  sun 
A  kiss  from  mother's  lips,  dear, 

And  a  thought  of  work  well  done." 


run  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  223 


THIRD  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text.    Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  4. 

Other  Materials. 
Memory  Gem. 
Poem. 
Songs. 
Pictures. 

Aim. 

Work  well  and  honestly  done  brings  satisfaction  to  ourselves  s^nd 
blessings  from  the  Lord. 

Illustration. 

"A  Manly  Boy."    The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  5,  page  143. 

■ 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  Deepen  the  impressions  you  made  in 
last  month's  work  by  reviewing  briefly.  Have  the  memory  gems  re- 
peated but  do  not  kill  the  interest  of  the  class  by  too  much  drill. 

The  subject  for  the  month  relates  itself  very  closely  to  the  lives 
of  the  children  and  should  inspire  them  to  more  and  better  effort. 

Many  good  suggestions  and  much  inspiration  may  be  had  from 
the  chapter  on  "Work.''    The  stories  also  will  enrich  the  lesson. 

Help  the  children  to  feel  strongly  the  benefit  derived  from  the 
"together"  spirit  in  work  in  the  home,  at  school  and  in  the  community 
in  which  they  live. 

Take  up  some  of  the  industries  and  in  this  way  show  our  inter- 
dependence. Bread,  for  instance,  how  many  people  work  that  we  may 
enjoy  that  blessing.     Then  our  clothing,  etc. 

When  the  children  are  prepared,  use  some  questions,  such  as: 
What  would  you  like  to  do  to  help  yourself  and  others?  If  you 
would  do  big  things  when  you  are  older  what  should  you  do  now? 
What  can  you  do  now?  Help  them  to  appreciate  the  thought  that 
people  who  do  not  work  are  not  happy. 

Memory  Gem. 

"Whene'er  a  task  is  put  to  you, 

Don't  idly  sit  and  view  it ; 
Nor  be  content  and  wish  it  done — 
Begin  at  once  and  do  it." 

Poem.     "My  Question." 

I  asked  a  bee  that  was  flitting  by 

To  tell  me  its  story,  and  s.ay  to  me  why 

It  seemed  as  happy  at  work  as  at  play ; 


224  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

For  it  hummed  its  song  the  livelong  day, 

Yet  it  worked,  and  worked,  and  worked,  for  aye ; 

Now  into  the  lily's  perfumed  bell, 

Now  into  the  cup  of  the  campanel,    , 

Now  at  the  mouth  of  the  trumpet-flower 

That  twined  around  our  garden  bower; 

Anon  to  the  bloom  of  the  almond-tree, 

Then  down  to  the  honey-ball  close  to  me. 

"O,  tell  me  thy  secret,  blithe,  happy  bee, 

What  gives  thy  work  such  a  zest  to  thee?" 

Its  answer  was  brief :    "I  may  not  stay 

To  talk  with  you,  for  the  wearing  day 

Admonishes  that  my  work  is  not  done, — 

See  how  yon  mountain  is  nearing  the  sun! 

But  if  you  would  wish  to  be  happy  and  gay, 

Always  do  your  work  first,  and  then,  afterwards  play." 

FOURTH  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text.  Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  4.  Bible:  Occupati<HK  oi 
Cain  and  Abel. 

Other  Materials.  ■: 

Questions. 
Memory  Gem. 
Poem. 
Reading. 
Quotations. 

Aim. 

Work  well  and  honestly  done  brings  satisfaction  to  ourselves  and 
blessings  from  the  Lord. 

Illustration. 

"The  End  of  the  Minute  Hand."  The  Children's  Friend,  vol. 
5,  page  129. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  Get  all  the  lessons  that  have  been 
.s^ven  for  this  year  and  look  them  over  carefully.  Notice  how  closely 
the  things  which  have  been  used  to  make  them  are  related  to  your  own 
life  and  to  the  lives  of  the  children.  Homes,  relatives,  friends,  and 
surroundings  have  been  considered  with  the  thought  of  impressing 
upon  the  minds  of  the  children  feelings  of  appreciation  and  respect  for 
them,  and  to  arouse  desires  to  help  in  sharing  the  every-day  responsi- 
bility of  life.  The  thought  for  this  month  is  the  value  of  work.  It  is 
onr  privilege  to  consider  how  the  homes,  relatives,  friends  and  comforts 
which  are  part  of  our  dailv  life  can  only  be  created  and  maintained  by 


.  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  225 

work.     Use  your  own  surroundings  to  make  plain  this  fact.     Build- 
ings, roads,  manufactories,  farms,  etc.,  may  be  used  as  illustrations.  The 
histor}'  of  the  pioneers  would  also  be  a  good  subject  to  use  as  illustrat- 
ing the  value  of  persistent  hard  work.     Help  the  children  to  under- 
stand that  all  must  work,  but  that  it  is  the  kind  of  work  one  does  which 
makes  the  difference  in  the  results  worked  for.     Notice  what  Smiles 
says  about  the  results  of  work  on  the  body  and  on  t\Lt  mind.      Some 
people  think  that  work  came  to  us  as  a  result  of  the  fall  in  the  Garden 
of  Eden.     But  it  was  before  the  fall  that  we  read  that  the  Lord  rested 
on  the  seventh  day  and  hallowed  it.     What  did  He  rest  from?     Then 
in  the  Garden  of  Eden,  Adam  was  given  charge  over  all  things  upon 
the  earth  and  it  was  given  him  to  name  all  the  forms  of  life  which  had 
been  created.     There  was  one  tremendous  task.     Work  is  given  as  a 
blessing,  just  as  much  as  resting  or  playing.     Too  much  work  or  rest 
or  play  is  not  good.     To  show  that  the  Lord  meant  all  to  work  tell 
of  the  labors  of  Cain  and  Abel  who  were  the  first  children. 

Questions,  What  part  of  your  body  gjows  stronger  when  you 
walk  or  run  or  jump? 

What  games  do  you  play  that  make  your  arms  strong? 

What  is  the  use  of  being  strong? 

Is  it  right  to  always  use  your  strength  for  playing? 

The  Bible  says  if  you  do  not  work  you  may  not  eat.  What  do  you 
think  about -that? 

If  everybody  should  stop  working  what  would  happen  to  our  food 
and  clothes?'    Go  into  some  details  on  this  question. 

What  is  the  Golden  Rule? 

What  does  the  memory  gem  mean  ? 

Memory  Gem. 

*'You  will  find  that  luck 

Is  only  pluck 
To  try  things  over  and  over ; 

Patience  and  skill, 

Courage  and  will, 
Are  the  four  leaves  of  luck's  clover.*' 

Reading.     "Our  Work  Is  Never  in  Vain." 

A  few  years  ago  a  little  girl,  daughter  of  the  janitress  of  a  school- 
house  in  Sweden,  used  to  help  her  mother  with  her  work,  and  while  she 
\vorked  she  sang.  A  lady  passing  in  her  carriage  one  day  heard  the 
s^in.crer  and  was  attracted  by  the  sweetness  of  her  voice.  She  descended 
from  her  carriage,  hunted  up  the  little  girl  and  persuaded  the  mother 
to  let  her  carry  the  child  to  Craelius,  the  great  music  master.  When 
this  master  heard  her  sing  he  was  delighted  and  said  she  should  sing 
hefore  Count  Puche,  who  was  a  fine  judge  of  music.  That  gentleman 
received  the  little  visitor  rather  coldlv  at  first,  but  when  she  had  sung 
for   him  he  declared  that  she  should  have  all  the  advantages  of  the 


226  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Stockholm  Academy.     The  fame  of  the  little  nightingale  spread  until 
the  concerts  where  she  was  to  appear  attracted  great  numbers  of  people. 

One  night,  when  she  was  to  try  a  more  difficult  song  than  she  had 
tried  before,  the  house  was  packed.  The  little  g^rl  was  nervous  and 
excited,  and  when  she  attempted  to  sing  she  found  her  voice  was  gone. 
Everybody  was  grieved  and  the  poor  g^rl  was  overwhelmed  with  sor^ 
row.  Her  voice  did  not  come  back  the  next  day  nor  the  next,  and  she 
felt  sorrowful,  indeed.  She  felt  that  all  the  years  she  had  spent  in 
work  and  study  had  been  in  vain,  and  she  grieved  for  a  long  time  over 
her  misfortune.     But  she  went  about  humming  little  tunes  to  herself. 

About  four  years  after  that  terrible  night  an  entertainment  was  to 
be  g^ven  where  the  principal  part  in  one  of  the  songs  was  more  difficult 
than  any  of  the  singers  under  the  music  master's  training  could  handle. 
He  thought  of  his  former  pupil,  and  wondered  if  she  could  ever  help 
him  any  more.  He  spoke  to  her  about  it,  and  anxious  to  do  him  any 
favor  she  could,  she  consented  to  try.  While  practicing  the  part,  sud- 
denly her  voice  returned  with  all  its  former  richness  and  beauty.  She 
was  delighted,  as  was  also  the  music  master.  This  little  girl  was  Jenny 
Lind. 

Now,  the  moral  we  wish  to  point  in  this  bit  of  history  is  that  no 
good  work  is  ever  a  waste.  Circumstances  may  arise  that  would  seem 
to  nullify  the  efforts  we  have  put  forth  and  utterly  destroy  what  we 
have  accomplished,  but  when  we  find  ourselves  again  our  former  good 
works  remain  to  our  credit.  Jenny  Lind,  when  her  voice  returned  to 
her,  found  that  she  had  not  studied  nor  worked  in  vain,  but  her  knowl- 
edge of  music  was  just  as  valuable  to  her  as  if  no  misfortune  had  inter- 
vened.— Selected. 
y 

Poem.     "The  Boy  That  Can." 

I  wonder  who  will  take  the  time 

To  do  the  extra  things, 
The  little  in-between-ities. 

Which  all  the  big  work  brings  ? 

The  boy  who  fills  his  measure  full. 

And  works  by  rule  and  plan — 
When  one  must  give  an  extra  lift. 

He's  just  the  boy  that  can. 

When  life's  occasions  loudly  call 

For  effort  strange  and  new. 
Who  then  will  have  the  courage  wise 

The  untried  things  to  do? 

The  boy  who  sticks  to  common  tasks. 

Who's  always  in  the  van — 
When  one  must  meet  emergencies. 

He's  just  the  boy  that  can. 

— ^Julia  H.  Johnston. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  227 

Quotations,    Genesis  2:2-3;  Genesis  2:15;  II  Thessalonians  3:10; 
Ecclesiastes  5:12;  Matthew  5:48. 

FIFTH  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text.     Qiaracter,  by  Smiles,  chapter  4.     Bible :  Noah  and  the  Ark. 

.    Other  Materials. 
Questions. 
Memory  Gem. 
Poem. 
Readings. 
Quotations. 
Aini« 

Work  well  and  honestly  done  brings  satisfaction  to  one's  self  and 
blessings  from  the  Lord. 

Illustradon. 

Learning  Sweet  Old  Fashions,  The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  5, 
page  260.  , 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  For  review  consider  the  advantages 
of  good  homes,  relatives  and  friends,  use  some  of  the  memory  gems  to 
illustrate  your  review.  Let  the  children  tell  you  how  these  things  exist 
as  the  result  of  work.  Read  suggestions  for  the  Fourth  Grade  and 
tell  how  work  came  as  a  blessing  to  all  mankind.  Explain  the  necessity 
of  work,  how  it  is  needed  for  strength  of  body  and  mind.  Why  rest 
is  so  sweet  after  labor.  Use  some  of  the  incidents  in  Smiles  to  illus- 
trate how  to  work  to  get  the  best  results.  The  story  suggested  for 
illustration  is  a  good  one  to  show  the  value  of  working  now  to  be  ready 
for  positions  in  the  future. 

Questions,     Who  created  the  earth? 

What  does  the  Bible  tell  us  about  the  number  of  days  the  Lord 
took  to  create  the  earth? 

What  happened  on  the  seventh  day  ? 

From  what  did  the  Lord  rest  ? 

Why  should  he  need  rest  ? 

Who  was  put  in  charge  of  the  Garden  of  Eden  ? 

What  were  the  names  of  Adam's  first  two  children? 

How  do  we  know  that  they  worked  ?    Genesis  4 :  2. 

What  great  thing  did  Noah  make? 

What  was  the  ark  to  be  used  for  ? 

How  do  we  know  that  the  ark  was  well  made?  It  withstood  the 
great  storm  and  landed  all  its  occupants  in  safety. 

Name  some  things  which  we  enjoy  that  are  the  results  of  hmrd 
work  performed  by  others. 


228  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

What  special  kind  of  work  would  yoit  like  to  do  ? 
How  will  your  work  help  others? 

Memory  Gent. 

"The  heights  by  great  men  reached  and  kept 

Were  not  attained  by  sudden  flight, 
But  they,  while  their  companions  slept, 

Were  toiling  upward  in  the  night." 

Reading.  "The  boy  Lucius  bent  over  his  stitching,  for  he  was 
learning  tent-making.  His  shoulders  ached,  his  head  ached,  his  back 
ached,  and  it  seemed  to  him  that  his  very  feet  ached  with  the  longing 
to  run  out  of  doors,  but  he  continued  to  work. 

"What  makes  you  work  so  hard,  Lucius?'*  cried  Alcibiades,  fling- 
ing open  the  door.  "A  lot  of  us  Christians  are  not  going  to  work  any 
more.  They  say  that  Christ  is  coming  again  very  soon,  possibly  to-day 
or  to-morrow,  then  we  shall  be  caught  up  in  the  clouds  and  all  the  world 
will  be  destroyed.  So  it  is  not  necessary  for  us  to  work.  Let  us  go 
out  and  look  for  signs,  and  listen  to  what  people  are  saying.  It  is 
wonderful." 

Lucius  looked  up  wearily.  He  would  have  liked  nothing  better 
than  to  leave  his  work  and  go,  but  he  shook  his  head. 

"No  it  would  not  be  right,"  he  said.  "Paul,  who  told  us  about 
the  Christ  and  taught  us  the, right  way  to  do,  worked  day  and  night. 
He  told  us  that  by  working  we  should  help  the  world  and  the  cause  of 
Christ.  He  never  idled,  although  he  was  sick  and  sometimes  grew  verv 
tired." 

"Nonsense!  They  have  a  letter  from  Paul  himself  saying  that 
Christ  is  coming  very  soon,  and  that  nobody  needs  to  work  any  more." 

"I  don't  believe  it,"  answered  Lucius.  "Paul  would  not  say  such 
a  thing.  He  would  say  that  Christ  wanted  to  find  us  working  when  He 
came."    And  he  would  not  go,  but  kept  on  with  his  work. 

"I  don't  believe  it  is  a  real  letter,"  he  said  to  himself."  I  believe 
it  is  only  a  letter  somebody  made  up  and  signed  with  Paul's  name." 

*    He  was  right.    By  and  by  there  came  a  real  letter  from  Paul.  Lucius 
heard  it  read,  and  it  said  just  what  he  thought  it  would  say. 

He  reproved  the  idle  Thessalonians  who  left  their  daily  work  to  run 
about  and  stare  and  wonder.  "If  anv  would  not  work,  neither  should 
he  eat,"  he  said.    He  wanted  all  to  work  and  support  themselves. 

They  were  mistaken  about  thinking  that  the  second  coming  of 
Christ  was  so  near.  It  has  not  yet  come,  two  thousand  years  after. 
But  whenever  lie  comes.  He  wants  to  find  His  people  working  not 
idling.  That  does  not  mean  He  does  not  want  us  to  play.  He  wants 
us  to  play  and  rest  as  well  as  work ;  but  not  to  be  aimless  and  idle. 

He  works  Himself,  and  He  provided  great  things  for  us  to  do.  He 
made  the  whole  creation :  and  it  is  all  full  of  provision  for  wonderful 
things  that  we  can  accomplish. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  229 

Poem.     **The  Two  Seekers." 

Two  men  went  seeking  happiness. 

One  w  a  Iked  the  roadside  way 
And  looked  with  all  his  longing  eyes 

Within  each  garden  gay. 
Where'er  he  saw  it  growing 

He  tried  to  grasp  its  flower; 
But  always  in  his  clutching  hand,^ 

It  died  before  an  hour. 
Till,  *angry  and  despairing. 

In  bitterness  he  cried : 
"Others  are  given  happiness. 

To  me  it  is  denied !" 

The  other  one  looked  round  him.. 

"Since  happiness  is  found 
In  other  people's  gardens, 

Why  not  within  my  ground?" 
He  dui^  and  plowed  and  planted, 

And  with  a  careful  toil 
W  here  it  was  rough  c^nd  stony, 

Rnriched  each  inch  of  soil. 
I'ntil  with  crowded  blossoms 

The  little  plot  o'erran — 
"How  simple  'tis,"  the  owmer  cried, 

**To  be  a  happy  man !" 

— Youth's  Companion. 

Oiiotations.     Genesis  2:2-3:  2:15:   Proverbs  10:4:  I  Corinthians 
3:14.'  Fxclesiastes  3:12.     2  The^salonians  3:10-12.     Matthew  5:48. 

LE.SSON  KirjTTEEN. 

The  Busy  Hour. 

SPRING   CLKANINC. 

Suggcstionis  for  the  Teacher.  The  subject  for  the  month  is  one 
that  is  very  evident  at  this  season  of  the  year,  mother  nature  is  putting 
forth  her  leaves  and  blossoms  making  things  appear  new,  fresh,  and 
beautiful.  The  J^pirit  of  the  spring  gets  into  the  home  and  manifests 
itself  in  the  desire  to  open  doors  and  windows  and  let  the  sunshine  and 
fresh  air  into  every  nook  and  cranny,  to  sweep  out  all  the  cobwebs  and 
'Hist  of  the  winter,  to  scrub  and  scour  and  polish  until  the  interior  of 
the  home  may  compare  in  sweetness  and  beauty  with  the  perfume  and 
radiance  of  the  earth  in  the  springtime  of  the  year.  Talk  to  your 
"hildren  about  the  beauty  which  is  all  around  you,  notice  the  activity 
'n  all  directions,  the  birds,  and  the  bees,  as  well  a*^  the  leaver  and  crra-ses 


230  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

and  flowers  all  telling  of  the  work  of  which  goes  steadily  on  and  bears 
to  us  the  message  of  God's  love  who  created  and  controls  all  the  forces 
of  nature  for  the  blessing  of  man. 

The  desire  to  have  spring  cleaning  in  the  home  is  a  good  thing  and 
we  should  take  advantage  of  this  opportunity  to  teach  the  value  of  work 
which  has  the  spirit  of  spring  and  of  loving  service  in  the  task. 

A  number  of  suggestions  will  be  given  and  the  teachers  are  asked 
to  choose  the  ones  which  are  best  suited  to  the  conditions  which  exist 
in  the  ward.  If  it  is  considered  best  to  do  all  the  work  in  the  meeting 
house  the  children  should  meet  as  usual,  have  the  regular  opening  ex- 
ercises and  proceed  as  arranged  in  your  preparation  meeting.  If  group 
work  in  other  places  be  planned  for  the  children  should  be  notified 
where  to  meet.  The  lesson  must  begin  and  end  with  the  regular  sacred 
exercises  and  proper  order  be  observed.  The  plan  must  be  so  arranged 
that  no  group  of  children  will  be  kept  longer  than  the  one  hour. 

As  always  the  consent  of  the  Bishopric  must  be  obtained  if  any 
unusual  work  is  to  be  done  in  the  meeting  house. 

In  the  meetinghouse. 

Sweeping — Dusting — Cleaning  of  book-cases  or  cuboards  or  sacra- 
ment sets  or  lamps  or  shades  or  electric  lights  etc. 

Outside  the  Meetinghouse. 

Continue  work  begun  last  month  or  if  not  done  work  may  be 
planned  as  suggested  for  April. 

Vacant  lots. 

Secure  permission  from  owners.  Then  clean  of  weeds  or  other 
rubbish  and  prepare  for  a  playground  for  the  summer. 

House-cleaning  in  a  home. 

If  there  be  some  persons  who  would  be  glad  of  help,  poor  or  aged, 
or  a  family  that  is  willing  to  permit  a  group  of  children  to  come  in  and 
clean  one  room. 

Whichever  plan  is  used  the  work  must  be  carefully  arranged  and 
divided  so  that  each  one  will  know  what  part  they  are  expected  to  do. 

LESSON  NINETEEN. 

The  Story  Hour. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  After  the  opening  exercises  a  little 
time  should  be  taken  to  consider  the  results  of  the  last  lesson  and  to  in- 
spire them  to  continued  efforts  in  working  for  others.  In  selecting  your 
story  for  the  period  choose  one  that  emphasizes  the  thought  for  the 
month :  That  work  is  a  blessing  and  that  working  to  bless  others  is  a 
privilege.    Do  not  forget  to  plan  for  the  songs  and  rest  exercises. 

FIRST  GRADE 

Stories.  Picture  books  or  Baby  Finger  Plays  or  The  Little  Red 
Hen,  in  Household  Stories,  page  12;  or: 

The  Old  Woman  and  Her  Pig,  in  Household  Stories,  page  30 ;  or : 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  231 

A  Little  Girl  of  Long  Ago,  in  this  issue    of    The  Children's 
Friend. 

SECOND  GRADE. 

Stories.    Amy  Stuart,  in  the  Boston  Collection  of  Kindergarten 
Stories,  page  11;  or : 

Not  a  Busy  Bee,  in  the  Boston  Collection  of  Kindergarten  Stories, 
page,  85 ;  or  : 

A  Little  Girl  of  Long  Ago,  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's 
Friend. 

THIRD  GRADE. 

Stories.    The  Larks  in  The  Cornfield,  in  Stories  to  Tell,  page  80  ;• 
or: 

A  True  Story  About  a  Girl,  in  Stories  to  Tell,  page  88 ;  or : 

Not  Naughty,  Only  Foolish ;  or : 

How  May  Used  Her  Strength,  both  in  this  issue  of  The  Chil- 
dren's Friend. 

FOURTH  GRADE. 

Stories,    The  Widow  0*Callagahan*s  Boys ;  or : 

The  New  Fangled  Notion;  or: 

Dave's  Experiment ;  or : 

Try  First,  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's  Friend. 

FIFTH  GRADE. 

Stories.    Hans  Brinker ;  or : 

Reuben's  Industry,  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's  Friend;  or : 
George  Fisher's  New  Year's  -Gift  in  Vol.  5,  of  The  Children's 
Friend,  pages  1  and  41. 


The  Social  Hour. 

LESSON  TWENTY. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teachers. 

The  games  for  this  period  have  been  selected  to  fit  the  thought  of 
the  month,  and  most  of  them  represent  the  working  activities.  As  you 
play  the  games  with  the  children  help  them  to  feel  that  the  joy  and  hap- 
piness felt  in  playing  should  be  carried  into  the  work  which  needs  to  be 
done.  Play  and  work  are  the  activities  which  help  to  make  people 
strong  and  when  the  spirit  of  joy  is  in  the  work  and  play,  happiness 
comes  intb  our  lives. 


232  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

Preliminary  Music. 

Prayer. 

Singing. 

Story, 

Singing  Games  **Today  is  the-First  of  May/'  Swedish  Song  Plays. 

Song  Plays,  "Oats,  Peas,  Beans  and  Barley  Grow."  Games  tor 
the  Playground,  page  287,  or  Old  and  New  Singing  Games. 

*'Nuts  in  May."    Games  for  the  Playground,  page  285. 

*'Do  This,  Do  That."    Games  for  the  Playground,  page  75. 

"Squirrel  in  Trees."    Games  for  the  Playground,  page  185. 

**Buzz."    Games  for  the  Playground,  page  216. 

(Especially  good  for  Fourth  and  Fifth  grades.) 

''Single  Relay  Race."    Games  for  the  Playground,  page  175. 

Memory  Gems, 

Folk  Dance.  "The  Shoemaker  Dance."  Folk  Dance  Book,  by 
Crampton. 

Song. 

Benediction, 


A  FOREST  HYMN. 

The  groves  were  God's  first  temples.     Ere  man  learned 

To  hew  the  shaft,  and  lay  the  architrave, 

And  spread  the  roof  above  them, — ere  he  framed 

The  lofty  vault,  to  gather  and  roll  back 

The  sound  of  anthems ;  in  the  darkling  wood, 

Amidst  the  cool  and  silence,  he  knelt  down 

And  offered  to  the  Mightiest  solemn  thanks 

And  supplication.     For  his  simple  heart 

Might  not  resist  the  sacred  influences 

Which,  from  the  stilly  twilight  of  the  place. 

And  from  the  gray  old  trunks  that  high  in  heaven 

Mingled  their  mossy  boughs,  and  from  the  sound 

Of  the  invisible  breath  that  swayed  at  once 

All  their  green  tops,  stole  over  him,  and  bowed 

His  spirit  with  the  thought  of  boundless  p<j\\  cr 

And  inaccessible  majesty.     Ah,  why 

Should  we,  in  the  world's  riper  years,  neglect 

God's  ancient  sanctuaries,  and  adore 

Only  among  the  crowd,  and  under  roofs 

That  our  frail  hands  have  raised?     Let  nie,  at  least. 

Here,  in  the  shadow  of  this  aged  wood. 

Offer  one  hymn, — ^thrice  happy  if  it  find 

Acceptance  in  his  ear. 

— William  Cullen  Brvant. 


He  Sf'rang  Upon  The  Bed  With  Joyful,  Frantic  Barks. 


\'ol.  12.  MAY,  1913.  No.  5. 


LIlTLE  PRINCESS  WISLA. 

Chapter  v. — Stumpy. 
By  Sophie  Swett, 

"Old  Winne-Lackee's  own  little  meadow-lark !"  said  the  old  Squaw 
again  in  her  soft  silky  Indian  voice.  "Been  sick  long  and  dreamed 
strange  dreams !  Now  very  soon  be  well !  Strong,  brave  little  Indian 
girl  not  easy  to  kill!*' 

"Little  Indian  girl!"  murmured  Peggy.  It  seemed  strange,  she 
thought,  scarcely  strong  enough  as  yet  to  think  at  all.  Perhaps,  after 
all,  it  was  only  the  dreams  that  were  strange,  as  Winne-Lackee  said, 
and  she  might  feel  quite  natural  as  soon  as  she  was  well. 

"Been  sick  very  long  time,"  the  old  Squaw  repeated  anxiously. 
"Good  doctor  will  cure !"  She  pointed  to  the  old  Indian  doctor  who  was 
quitely  watching  every  movement  that  Peggy  made  and  listening  to 
every  word  she  said. 

He  smiled  kindly  down  at  her,  and  Peggy  smiled  a  little  in  re- 
sponse. They  were  kind  to  her — ^this  Indian  man  and  woman — and 
when  she  was  well  once  more  perhaps  all  her  puzzled  feeling  would 
go  away. 

Old  Dr.  Sockabesin  nodded  at  Winne-Lackee.  The  nod  meant, 
"She  will  forget  entirely,  and  you  can  make  of  her  a  little  Indian 
Princess,  to  be  a  joy  in  your  old  age  and  she  will  more  than  make  up 
to  you  for  the  granddaughter  you  have  lost — more  than  make  up ;"  for 
the  old  doctor  knew  that  a  white  granddaughter  would  be  a  great  satis- 
faction to  Winne-Lackee's  proud  old  heart. 

The  old  Squaw  noddled  back  at  him  with  grim  satisfaction. 

She  meant  to  make  a  real  little  Indian  girl  of  Peggy,  but  not  as  the 
Indians  did  in  the  old  times  when  they  made  captives  of  white  children. 
Peggy  should  be  like  a  little  Indian  princess.  Winne-Lackee  had  been 
in  Washington  and  seen  a  President's  daughter ;  far  finer  should  her 
little  granddaughter  be.  She  had  been  in  foreign  countries  and  seen 
more  than  one  princess ;  far  finer  than  any  of  them  should  her  little 
white  captive  be ! 

She  saw  Peggy  look  wonderingly  around  the  queer  room,  which 
was  Winne-Lackee's  own  chamber,  and  she  wished  that  she  had  taken 
away  the  skins  and  left  only  the  silken  draperies.  And  she  hoped  that 
Peg^  would  find  the  odors  of  the  sweet  grass  mats  stronger  than  the 


236  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

lingering  scent  of  the  pipes  that  she  still  smoked  in  the  privacy  of  her 
own  room!  • 

She  saw  Peggy  looking  wonderingly  ^t  the  doctor  and  she  motioned 
to  him  with  a  sharp  frown  to  cast  aside  the  blanket  that  he  wore  over 
his  shoulders.  It  was  a  Mexican  blanket  of  woven  silk,  but  he  wore  it 
as  only  an  Indian  wears  a  blanket.  Under  the  blanket  Doctor  Scocka- 
besin  wore  just  such  clothes  as  a  doctor  who  comes  to  your  house  might 
wear.    It  was  only  on  the  island  that  the  doctor  wore  a  blanket. 

He  took  off  the  blanket  at  Winne-Lackee's  frown.  He  did  more 
than  that.  He  stepped  to  the  fire-place,  where  a  little  fire  of  boughs 
had  been  kindled  because  the  summer  day  was  cool,  to  throw  the  blanket 
upon  it. 

"Never  a  blanket  or  a  pipe  again  if  they  will  hurt  the  little  grand- 
daughter!' he  said  in  the  Indian  tongue. 

But  Winne-Lackee  caught  the  beautiful  blanket  and  drew  it  safely 
from  the  flames.  "She  must  be  Indian — she  shall  be  Indian  when  she 
is  well !"  she  said  in  low  tones.  "But  first  her  heart  must  be  at  home 
here !" 

Peggy  looked  and  heard  and-  wondered.  She  did  not  in  the  least 
understand  why  the  old  Indian  doctor  had  .wished  to  bum  his  blanket. 
They  meant  to  be  kind  to  her;  it  was  easy  to  understand  that.  Of 
course  it  was  only  natural,  since  she  was  the  old  Indian  woman's 
grandchild.  But  she  had  dreamed — oh,  she  must  have  dreamed  for 
a  long  time  that  she  was  a  little  white  girl !  She  could  not  remember 
where — not  a  face,  not  a  name  would  come  back  to  her  out  of  that  past 
that  they  told  her  was  a  dream !  A  dream — yet  it  seemed  more  real 
than  this  Indian  chamber. 

But  she  smiled  when  Winne-Lackee  folded  the  gay  silk  blanket 
like  a  scarf  and  drew  it  over  her  own  shoulders,  pinning  it  with  a  spark- 
ling pin. 

The  old  Squaw  wore  now  a  trailing  skirt  of  black  silk,  glittering 
with  jet,  and  she  looked  stately  and  almost  handsome  as  she  led  the 
old  doctor  in  a  kind  of  slow  dance  about  the  great  room  for  Peggy's 
amusement. 

This  was  something  like  a  fairy-book,  thought  Peggy.  If  this 
was  only  a  dream  it  w^as  a  pleasant  one. 

The  old  doctor  nodded  again  at  Winne-Lackee  as  he  saw  Pegg>'s 
bewildered  smile. 

"She  will  be  contented  to  be  your  granddaughter  in  a  very  little 
while."  was  what  the  nod  meant  to  Winne-Lackee.  And  Winne-Lack- 
ee's  face  was  full  of  triumph. 

But  just  at  that  moment  there  was  heard  outside  the  door  the  rush- 
ing and  scampering,  the  barking  and  whining  of  a  dog. 

The  door  was  burst  open  and  in  nished  a  little  terrier. 

He  was  a  draggled  and  travel-stained  little  dog.  His  tongue  hung 
from  his  mouth,  he  was  panting,  and  he  quivered  all  over. 

He  sprang  upon  the  bed  with  joyful,  frantic  barks.     He  licked 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  237 

Peggy's  face  and  hands.    He  wagged  his  small  stump  of -a  tail  as  if 
he  would  wag  it  off! 

Peggy,  suddenly  aroused  and  awake,  threw  her  arms  around  the 
little  dog  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"He  is  my  own,  own  doggie,  isn't  he?"  she  cried  in  a  puzzled, 
wistful  way.     "Isn't  he?"  she  cried  anxiously. 

"Why  no,  no!"  cried  the  Indian  woman,  and  her  soft  voice  was 
sharp  now.  "Bad  dog  will  bite  Medwisla!  Bring  sickness  and  bad 
dreams  back  to  her!" 

She  seized  the  dog  by  the  broken  rope  that  hung  from  his  collar. 

"Tell  Jo  Mattawam  to  shoot  him  at  once!"  she  called  sharply 
as  she  tried  to  thrust  the  excited  little  dog  out  of  the  door. 

She  was  so  disturbed  by  the  fear  that  the  dog  would  bring  friends 
to  Peggy's  rescue  that  she  forgot  to  be  cautious. 

Perhaps,  too,  being  an  old  squaw  she  did  not  quite  understand 
how  a  little  white  girl  might  feel  about  her  own  pet  dog. 

Peggy  was  sitting  up  now  against  her  pillows,  her  eyes  wide  with 
horror,  a  lump  in  her  throat  that  would  not  let  her  cry  out. 

"Get  out,  you  stumpy-tailed  cur!"  cried  the  old  Indian  doctor, 
coming  to  Winne-Lackee's  help,  and  he  used  the  toe  of  his  boot  to 
help  to  get  the  little  dog  out  of  Peggy's  sight.  • 

Peggy's  ears  caught  one  of  the  words  he  had  said  and  it 
startled  her  so  that  the  kick  the  little  dog  had  received  hurt  her  less. 

"Stumpy!  Oh,  that's  it!"  she  cried  out  and  the  strangling  lump 
in  her  throat  gave  way.  "My  own  dear,  precious,  old  Stumpy!  Oh, 
I  didn't  dream  himr 

Doctor  Sockabesin  looked  startled  and  a  good  deal  troubled.  He 
had  not  expected  that  a  name  from  her  old  life  would  come  back  to 
Peggy  so  soon. 

If  only  he  had  not  noticed  the  queer,  wagging  «tump-tail  of  the 
poor  little  beast ! 

Winne-Lackee  returned  in  a  moment  repeating,  "bad  dog  would 
bite  Medwisla,"  so  fast  and  loud  that  Peggy  could  not  make  her  listen 
to  her  piteous  cry  for  her  "precious  old  Stumpy." 

The  old  doctor  stopped  Winne-Lackee's  loud  tones  by  a  question 
in  Indian.  *     ^ 

"How  could  the  dog  have  followed  the  trail  when  you  came  by 
water!'  he  asked. 

Winne-Lackee's  voice  trembled  as  she  answered  in  Indian.  "I 
landed  once,"  she  said.  "And  a  dog  like  that  will  always  find  the  one 
he  loves !" 

"My  dear  old  Stumpy!  Oh,  I  want  him!  I  didn't  dream  himr 
cried  Peggy,  turning  her  weak  head  from  side  to  side  on  the  pillow. 

But  the  only  answer  that  came  to  her  was  the  sound  of  a  rifle  shot 

very  near  at  hand. 

(To  be  continued.)  > 


238  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 


THE  HERO  OF  THE  TENEMENTS. 

BY  COE  HAYNE. 

"Whew,  but  it  is  cold!"  muttered  Mat,  the 'little  Hungarian  news- 
boy, as  he  jumped  up  and  down  at  the  corner  of  the  street.  The  wide, 
rickety  boards  of  the  sidewalk,  covered  white  with  frost,  creaked 
shrilly  with  every  movement  of  his  feet. 

"Morning's  papers,  here  !*'  shouted  Mat. 

It  was  yet  too  early  for  very  many  people  to  be  astir.  Across  the 
street  the  sidewalk  was  squeaking  under  the  clumsy  shoes  of  a  night 
messenger  boy  upon  his  way  home. 

"Hello,  Billy!"  Mat  accosted. 

"Hello,  Mat!  How's  the  family?"  returned  Billy.  "Come  over 
here  1" 

Mat  ran  across  the  street  and  landed  with  a  bound  upon  the  walk 
beside  his  friend,  the  night  messenger. 

"Ain't  it  cold  though!"  chattered  Mat,  as  he  thrust  his  hands 
down  into  one  of  the  pockets  of  Billy's  big  overcoat. 

'     "I  asked  how  your  family  was  getting  along,"  said  the  older  boy, 
not  unkindly. 

They're  all  right  'long  as  it's  summer,"  answered  the  newsboy. 
"But  this  morning  H«ddy  is  worse,  'cause  it's  cold-d-d." 

Mat  pressed  up  closer  to  Billy  and  shivered.  Two  big  tears  were 
rolling  down  his  cheeks,  but  he  was  too  much  of  a  man  to  notice  them 
or  even  wipe  them  away. 

"I've  found  a  chance  for  youi  Mat,"  continued  Billy.  "They  want 
an  office  boy  up  in  a  fine  place  on  Fourth  avenue.  I  saw  the  sign  in  the 
window  this  morning.    Come  along  and  see  it." 

The  boys  walked  along  the  street  for  a  little  distance,  then  turning 
a  comer  were  soon  upon  the  magnificent  Fourth  avenue. 

"Here's  the  sign,  Mat,'  said  the  messenger  boy,  stepping  up  in 
front  of  a  handsome  office  building. 

"Boy  wanted  for  lawyer's  office.  Must  have  good  recommenda- 
tions*. Apply  in  person  Tuesday  morning,' "  read  Mat,  slowly  repeat- 
ing each  word. 

"You'd  get  a  pile  out  of  such  a  place  as  that.  Why  don't  you 
try  for  it?  I  would  if  I  was  out  of  a  job  and  had  yolir  schooling,*" 
prompted  Billy. 

Mat  shook  his  head  soberly. 

"No,  there's  no  chance  for  me.  Don't  you  see  it  says  you've  got 
to  have  recommends — and  where  could  I  get  any?" 

"That's  so,"  assented  the  other.  "Didn't  think  of  that.  But  say. 
it  wouldn't  do  any  harm  to  try  anyway,  would  it?  May  be  there's 
such  a  thing  as  your  getting  in  without  recommends." 

During  the  day  Mat  thought  about  his  "chance."  He  decided  that 
Billy  was  right.    It  would  do  no  harm  to  try,  any\yay.    So  next  mom- 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  239 

ing  he  presented  himself  at  the  office  of  one  of  the  prominent  lawyers 
of  the  great  city  in  which  he  lived,  and  waited  his  turn  to  be  examined 
as  an  applicant  for  the  position  in  question. 

Mat  had  not  always  lived  in  America.  A  few  years  before,  when 
he  was  but  a  mere  lad,  he  had  come  from  Hungary,  away  across  the 
rolling  Atlantic,  with  his  parents  and  his  baby  sister  Hedwig,  a  wee, 
sweet-faced  cripple.  This  little  family  was  just  beginning  to  get  ac- 
customed to  the  new  life  when  misfortune,  hard  and  sudden,  came  to 
it.  The  father  became  stricken  with  a  mysterious  disease  and  died.  The 
poor  mother,  now  prostrated  with  grief,  longed  for  the  dear  old  rural 
home  in  her  native  land.  Here  she  was  in  a  strange  country  with 
few  friends  and  a  family  for  which  she  must  provide.  What  could 
she  do?  Little  Mat,  however,  now  came  manfully  to  the  front  and 
showed  that  he  was  born  of  sturdy  stock.  He  realized  that  he  must 
•now  take  his  place  at  the  head  of  the  house.  Leaving  his  school,  which 
he  loved  more  than  he  chose  to  confess,  and  in  which  he  was  fast 
forging  to  the  head  of  his  class,  he  went  out  upon  the  streets  as  a  news- 
boy. 

For  several  years  Mat's  family  prospered  very  well.  The  mother 
was  able  to  earn  a  good  deal  by  her  needle,  and  Mat  helped  out  with 
the  pennies  which  he  gained  by  selling  papers.  All  of  the  other  boys 
of  the  streets,  whether  newsboys  or  messengers,  whenever  they  became 
acquainted  with  Mat,  liked  him.  He  was  "straight  goods,"  as  they  put 
it,  and  never  sold  papers  on  the  street  comers  already  occupied  by  other 
boys.    He  was  good  to  the  little  weak  newsboy,  too. 

Indeed,  there  seemed  to  be  bred  in  this  humble  child  of  the  tene- 
ments, a  Christ-like  love  for  humanity.  In  his  own  small  way  he  tried 
to  help  others  whenever  possible.  From  his  parents  he  had  early  re- 
ceived careful  instruction  in  the  Bible,  and  in  a  bright  little  mission 
Sunday  school  within  two  blocks  of  his  new  home  in  the  big  American 
city,  he  was  a  constant  attendant.  In  his  Sundayschool  class  were  boys 
whom  he  met  upon  the  streets  selling  papers  like  himself,  and  whom 
he  had  invited  to  come  to  the  mission. 

But  a  time  came  when  mother's  eyes,  already  weakened  by  too 
close  work  with  the  needle,  gave  out  completely,  and  she  found  that  she 
could  make  no  more  garments  for  the  big,  wholesale  clothing  house 
that  employed  her.  This  had  happened  but  a  short  time  before  that 
morning  upon  which  Mat  was  shown  the  sign  in  the  lawyer's  office. 

With  the  stem  winter  staring  them  in  the  face.  Mat  was  ready  to 
make  almost  any  attempt  to  secure  some  honorable  employment  that 
wduld  bring  him  a  bigger  income  than  he  made  by  selling  papers.  But 
now  he  stood  in-  the  lawyer's  office  awaiting  his  turn  in  the  line  of  eager 
young  applicants,  he  wished  that  he  had  not  been  so  ready  to  take  Billy's 
advice.  For  what  chance  had  he  against  all  of  these  better  dressed 
boys,  who  doubtless  had  their  pockets  full  of  recommendations? 

"Next !"  called  out  a  spry  young  man ;  and  Mat  found  himself 
being  ushered  into  the  mysterious  back  room  from  which  all  of  the 


240  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

boys  ahead  of  him  had  come  away,  some  of  them  with  disappointment 
written  plainly  upon  their  faces. 

Mat  walked  bravely  into  the  room  and  met  the  gaze  of  the  great 
lawyer  who  was  seated  at  a  desk  covered  with  many  papers. 

"Well,  what  is  your  name?"  asked  the  lawyer,  briskly. 

"Mattias  Boeskay,  sir.  They  calls  me  *Mat'  for  short,*'  answered 
the  little  Hungarian. 

"What  recommendations  have  you?" 

"None,  sir;  but  I  thought  that  maybe  you'd  take  me  without  any," 
faltered  Mat,  his  throat  choking  up  with  some  sort  of  a  lump  which 
he  could  not  swallow. 

"Without  any!"  exclaimed  the  lawyer  as  his  keen,  searching  eyes 
wandered  over  ^lat  from  head  to  foot,  making  the  boy  painfully  con- 
scious of  his  shabby  and  ill-fitting  clothes,  his  grimy,  chapped  hands 
and  tattered  shoes. 

For  a  moment  Mat  wavered  under  the  attack  of  those  critical 
eye'and  was  just  upon  the  point  of  fleeing  from  the  room  when  a  picture 
of  his  mother  as  she  had  vainly  tried  to  see  to  patch  his  trousers  the 
night  before,  appeared  to  him  and  made  him  straighten  up  and  feel 
once  more  like  a  man. 

"Well,  what  have  you  to  say  for  yourself?"  the  lawyer  asked 
abruptly.  "What  made  you  think  that  I  would  take  you  without  rec- 
ommendations ?" 

"Well,  sir,  it's  just  this  way,"  answered  Mat  in  an  honest  and  open 
manner.  "Billy,  my  chum,  was  kind  enough  to  tell  me  about  this  place. 
I  know  it  isn't  business  to  take  a  fellow  without  recommends,  but  if 
you'll  just  give  me  a  chance  once  I'll  make  a  big  try  to  suit  you.  There's 
a  lot  depending  on  me,  and  I  couldn't  afford  to  do  poor  work  for  any- 
body. You  see  since  father  died  I'm  the  main  fellow  at  our  house.  I 
sell  papers,  but  as  long  as  I've  got  to  buy  better  stuff  for  my  sister 
Heddy  to  eat,  I  can't  depend  on  that  sort  of  work.  I've  got  to  hustle 
now  more'n  ever,  'cause  mother's  eyes  have  given  out.  I  didn't  want 
to  let  any  chance  slip  by  to  get  work,  so  I  came  here." 

There  was  silence  in  the  comfortable  office.  The  lawyer  had  turned 
away  and  was  looking  out  of  the  window  with  a  far-away  expression  in 
his  eyes.  Perhaps  he  was  thinking  of  the  time,  many  years  before, 
when  he  himself  was  a  boy  with  a  future  scarcely  less  discouraging 
than  that  of  this  ragged,  anxious-looking  lad.  Perhaps  he  was  thinking 
also  of  the  kind  old  gentleman  who  had  given  him  a  start  in  life  when 
no  one  else  would  notice  him.  At  any  rate,  he  suddenly  aroused  him- 
self and  looked  at  Mat  with  eyes  altogether  softened.  • 

"Where  did  you  say  you  lived  ?"  he  asked ;  and  as  the  boy  told 
him,  he  wrote  the  address  in  a  note-book,  adding  aloud:  "Come  to- 
morrow at  this  time  and  I'll  let  you  know." 

W^irh  this  Mat  was  dismissed,  and  the  next  waiting  boy  was  shown 
into  the  private  room,  and  then  the  next  one,  until  finally  all  had  been 
ex'imined  and  had  departed. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  241 

"Charles,"  said  the  lawyer  to  his  clerk,  "did  you  notice  the  little 
fellow  who  claimed  that  he  had  a  family  to  support?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  answered  Charles. 

"I  want  you  to  go  to  his  home  and  find  out,  if  possible,  whether  he 
told  us  the  truth.    Inquire  of  his  neighbors — any  way  to  find  out.    Here 

is  his  address." 

\ 

I 

A  street-car  ride  of  twenty  minutes  took  Charles  to  the  poor  tene- 
ment district  where  Mat,  the  newsboy,  lived  with  his  mother  and  sister. 

"Will  you  tell  me',  please,  whether  a  boy  by  the  name  of  Matthias 
Boeskay  lives,  with  his  mother  and  crippled  sister,  next  door  to  you  ?" 
asked  Charles  of  a  pleasant-faced  old  woman  who  had  answered  his 
knock. 

"*Yes  he  does ;  and  a  right  good  boy  he  is,  too,  as  everybody  will 
tell  you,"  answered  the  woman.  "He  reminds  me  every  day  of  my 
own  son  who  got  lost  at  sea.    I  tell  you  there  never  was  a  better  son 


nor — " 


But  just  at  this  minute  Charles  caught  sight  of  Mat  carrying  home 
a  little  basket  of  coal  for  his  "family,"  and  not  wishing  to  be  noticed 
by  the  boy,  he  started  up  the  street,  leaving  the  good  old  mother  still 
speaking  her  praises  of  Mat  and  her  own  dead  sailor  boy.  Charles 
immediately  turned  back,  however,  and  stood  by  a  street  corner  near  at 
hand.  Presently  he  saw  Mat  come  out  upon  the  street,  drawing  in  a 
shaky  little  cart  his  invalid  sister.  The  wind  blew  somewhat  cold,  yet 
the  sun  was  bright  and  warm,  and  no  doubt  Mat  thought  that  this 
would  be  one  of  the  last  chances  for  "Heddy"  to  enjoy  the  out-of-doors. 
He  made  his  way  directly  toward  Charles. 

"Fm  getting  cold,"  the  lawyer's  clerk  heard  the  little  girl  complain. 

"Oh,  well,  ril  fix  that."  assured  Mat.  Whereupon  he  whisked  off 
his  coat  and  wrapped  it  about  the  tiny  shoulders  of  his  passenger. 

"That  boy  is  all  right,"  thought  Charles  as  he  started  for  the 
nearest  street-car. 

When  he  returned  to  the  office  he  told  his  employer  all  that  he  had 
seen  and  heard. 

When  Mat  left  the  office  of  the  great  lawver  that  Tuesday  morn- 
ing it  was  with  a  mingled  feeling  of  hope  and  despair.  W^ould  he  really 
get  the  place  or  not?  Perhaps  the  lawyer  was  merely  trying  to  get 
rid  of  him  without  hurting  his  feelings.  He  resolved  to  speak  nothing 
concerning  the  matter  to  his  mother,  but  to  wait  and  see  what  fortune 
the  morrow  had  in  store  for  him.  During  all  the  long  night  he  tossed 
to  and  fro  upon  the  bed. 

After  a  frugal  breakfast,  Mat  started  away  next  morning  to  secure 
his  usual  supply  of  papers.  But  before  he  could  gain  courage  to  go 
to  the  crowded  thoroughfares,  he  felt  that  he  must  retirrn  home  to  bid 
his  mother  and  Heddv  good-by  once  more.  Tie  wns  troubled  at  heart, 
for  his  mother  had  told  him  that  the  little  sister  whom  he  loved  so  much 
was  growing  thin  and  frail  for  vant  of  more  nurishing  f*od. 


\ 


242  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

"Things  are  going  to  pick  up,  mamma,  just  you  see ;  for  you  must 
remember  that  I  am  a  man  now,"  said  Mat  as  he  stood  for  a  moment 
in  the  doorway. 

His  mother  looked  down  at  him  with  love  and  pride  revealed  in 
her  face,  though  she  found  it  hard  to  hide  her  anxiety. 

"I  must  get  that  place !"  vowed  Mat  to  himself  as  he  sped  away. 

At  exactly  the  hour  mentioned  by  the  lawyer,  Mat  again  stood 
waiting  his  turn  to  be  called  into  a  private  room.  Three  or  four  other 
boys  who  had  been  asked  to  call  again,  were*  already  there  waiting 
and  hoping  like  himself.  But  one  after  another  they  were  dismissed,  and 
Mat  ag^ain  stood  before  the  lawyer. 

''This  is  Matthias  Boeskay,  is  it?  Well  sir,  we've  decided  that 
you  are  the  boy  for  this  place.  No,  no, — ^never  mind  about  thanking 
inc.  All  we  want  is  good  service.  See  if  that  suit  over  there  upon  that 
chair  fits  you.  That  all  comes  with  the  position,  you  know.  I 
have  also  made  an  engagement  for  you  with  Dr.  Warwick  of  the 
Grant  Medical  Institute.  You  are  to  meet  him  at  his  office  this  morning 
to  talk  about  your  invalid  sister.  He  is  a  good  man  and  will  be  able  to 
help  her  if  anyone  can.  I  will  tell  you  later  what  your  duties  in  this 
office  will  be." 

With  his  eyes  almost  popping  out  of  his  head  with  glee,  Mat 
listened  to  the  words  of  the  lawyer.  During  all  that  day  while  he  was 
becoming  accostomed  to  his  new  duties  he  could  hardly  keep  from 
shouting.  For  had  not  Dr.  Warwick  told  him  that  he  thought  that 
he  could  cure  Heddy?  She  was  going  to  get  stronger  and  stronger 
each  day,  he  knew,  for  he  was  able  to  buy  for  her  everything  in  the 
world  which  she  needed. 

And  that  night  God  heard  from  the  lips  of  Mat  and  his  family 
the  thanks  which  the  lawyer  had  not  taken  for  himself. 


MAY 

Merry  rollicking,  frolicking  May 

Into  the  woods  came  skipping  one  day  : 

She  teased  the  brook  till  he  laughed  outright. 

And  gurgled  and  scolded  with  all  his  might; 

She  chirped  to  the  birds  and  bade  them  sing 

A  chorus  of  welcome  to  Lady  Spring: 

And  the  bees  and  butterflies  she  set 

To  waking  the  flowers  that  were  sleeping  yet. 

She  shook  the  trees  till  the  buds  looked  out 

To  see  what  the  trouble  was  all  about 

And  nothing  in  nature  escaped  that  day 

The  touch  of  the  life-giving  bright  young  May. 

— MacDonald. 


THE  DISCOVERY  OF  MUd's  "PECULIARITY," 


MUD'S  PECULIARITY. 

THE  TRUE  STORY  OF  A  FAMOUS  EDITOR'S  PET. 
IN  TWO  FARTS. — PART  II. 

Time  passed  on — as  time  has  a  way  of  doing — and  it  must  be  that 
I  Jived  through  that  night,  and  the  next,  and  the  next ;  and  then  things 
began  to  calm  down  a  httle. 

It  was  time  when  to  make  a  retrospect,  to  philosophize,  and  try 
to  find  out  the  reason  of  things.  So  one  day  along  in  June,  when  I 
was  stirring  hay  in  the  mowing  lot,  I  got  to  thinking  it  all  over.  I'd 
thought  already  some  parts  of  it  over  many  times.  I  had  wondered 
why  those  lambs  should  run  away — all  of  a  sudden.  But  that  June 
day,  like  a  flash  there  occured  to  me  what  I  had  previously  forgotten. 
AH  had  gone  well  till  I  put  that  girth  around  Mud !  The  collar  on  his 
neck  and  even  the  bridle  had  gone  on  without  trouble — but  the  girth, 
that  was  what  did  it. 

Here  was  a  discovery  of  Mud's  peculiarity.  I  proved  it  that 
evening  by  winding  a  short  rope  three  or  four  times  loosely  around 
Mud's  body.  He  bounded  frantically  into  the  air,  as  if  he  had  become 
crazy,  as  soon  as  I  drew  it  snug  so  that  he  felt  it  completely  encircling 
him.     It  took  all  my  strength  to  hold  him. 

And  then,  when  I  let  him  go,  or  rather  when  he  broke  away,  he 
ran,  and  ran,  and  ran.  as  I  never  saw  a  lamb  rim — as  only  Mud  could 
run;  not  only  in  speed  but  in  an  indescribable,  roily,  waddly,  ludicrous 


244  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

manner.  It  was  cruel,  I  know  now,  but  I  laughed  till  I  cried,  and  the 
lamb  ran  until  the  rope  was  shaken  off, 

I  never  dared  fasten  the  girth  rope,  or  what  was  more  often  used — 
the  reigns  from  the  harness.  I  just  slip  noosed  it  double  around  the 
body,  and  then  wound  the  ends  around  hghtly.  I  didn't  do  it  at  all 
times,  I  just  watched  my  opportunities,  when  the  women  were  in  the 
house  and  the  men  in  the  hay  field.  I  experimented.  I  tried  different 
things,  and  different  modes  of  winding — not  all  at  once,  but  day  after 
day,  now  and  then  about  twice  a  day.  And  the  queerest  thing  about 
it  was  that  Mud  really  seemed  to  enjoy  it — that  is,  if  the  strap  came 
off  after  he  had  run  a  reasonable  distance.  Sometimes  Mud  would  run 
around  the  barn,  or  the  barn  lot,  and  right  back  to  me,  after  the  reigns 
had  dropped  off,  sometimes  even  before. 

Fanner  boys  with  no  playmates  living  nearer  than  a  half-mile  have 
to  make  the  most  of  their  own  resources  bf  entertainment,  and  I  made 
the  most  of  this,  and  laughed  till  I  had  to  tell  some  one.  I  was  confi- 
dent that  the  way  in  which  the  lamb  ran  was  so  extremely  funny  that 
my  father  would  appreciate  it,  and  so  would  forgive  me  for  the  caper, 
and  especially  for  the  use  of  the  reins. 

One  day  about  a  week  later,  I  ventured  to  speak  out  in  the  hav- 
ficld: 

"Say,  father,  I've  discovered  why  Mud  ran  away.  He'll  run  away 
any  time,  and  will  never  be  broke  in  to  harness,  if  you  just  put  some- 
thing around  his  body." 

Father  didn't  say  a  word.  I  saw  he  was  absent-mindedly  thinking 
of  the  cow-trade  he  had  made  with  Joe  Crocker,  that  forenoon.    So 


N.VlliST   1   EVKK  i 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  245 

I  waited  a  few  minutes,  and  repeated  my  remark  with  variations 
and  emphasis.  This  time  it  woke  him  upi  "Mud,"  "harness,"  caught 
his  attention,  and  the  reply  was  not  very  encouraging. 

But  I  kept  at  him>  and  brought  up  the  question  again,  when  he  was 
milking  the  new  cow  out  in  the  barn-yard  that  very  evening. 

"Good  milker,  isn't  she,  Ed?"  said  he.  "There  is  not  another 
cow  on  the  premises  that  will  give  a  pail  of  milk  like  that."  So  I 
praised  the  cow,  and  asked  father  how  much  he  thought  he  made  on 
the  trade..  He  explained  how  he  put  the  matter  so  as  to  make  $10  and 
get  a  better  cow  than  the  one  he  had — at  least  he  thought  so.  He 
laughed  as  he  explained  a  certain  point  of  the  transaction,  and  then 
I  saw  my  opportunity. 

"Say,  father,"  said  I,  "set  down  your  pail  of  milk,  and  let  me 
get  the  reins  and  show  you  Mud's  peculiarity.  IVe  found  out  the 
funniest  thing  you  ever  saw,  and  the  reason  why  he  ran  away." 

"Well  all  right,"  said  he ;  "but  just  wait  a  minute  until  John 
comes  out  of  the  stable,  and  then  we'll  see  what  you've  got." 

Just  then  John  stepped  down  from  the  stable  door,  with  a  full 
pail  of  milk. 

"Beat  you,  Sherm,"  he  said,  as  he  held  up  the  full  pail  of  milk. 

"Yes,  but  you've  got  two  cows'  milk"  said  father;  "mine  alone 
filled  this." 

Then  I  left  them  talking  cows,  and  the  trade,  while  I  ran  to  the 
horse  stable  for  the  reins. 

The  lambs  had  followed  after  me  to  the  barn,  for  they  sometimes 
were  given  some  of  the  milk  fresh  from  the  cows,  though  more  fre- 
quently they  got  only  the  skimmed  milk  from  the  house. 

As  I  returned,  father  said:  "Ed's  got  something  to  show  about 
Mud.  Let's  put  our  pails  up  in  the  door,  and  sit  down  here,  and  see 
what  he's  been  up  to." 

So  they  lifted  their  pails  up  into  the  open  door,  and  each  sat  down 
on  a  stone  in  front  of  his  pail. 

Then  I  got  out  into  the  yard,  and  fixed  Mud — a  little  firmer  than 
usual.    I  was  determined  to  give  him  the  run  of  his  life.    And  I  saifU 
to  my  lamb,  "Here's  our  first  exhibition.     Now  you  run  as  you  never 
run  before!"  *    [ 

Mud  bounded,  as  I  held  him  firmly  and  drew  the  reins  very  taut.' 
It  was  a  success.    He  ran  the  funniest  I  ever  saw.     Out  between  the 
cows,  under  the  bars  he  went,  making  the  hens  fly  in  every  direction, 
straight  around  the  south  end  of  the  new  bam. 

Father  and  John  just  laughed  and  laughed,  and  roared  and  lav 
back  till  their  heads  almost  touched  the  pails  up  in  the  door.  Just 
then  there  was  a  slam  bang  in  the  main  part  of  the  barn,  as  if  some- 
thing had  fallen,  or  one  of  the  horses  had  broken  out  of  the  stable. 
Father  and  John  quickly  turned  their  heads  to  see — just  in  time  for 
father  to  get  his  pail  of  milk  inverted  squarely  over  his  head.  John's 
pail  was  struck  sidewise  somewhat,  and  landed  inverted  in  his  lap — 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  247 

» 

while  Mud  landed  in  father's  lap  and  the  loose  ends  of  the  reins  wound 
around  his  neck  like  a  wisp-lash. 

Father  stopped  laughing  instantly.  You  can't  laugh  with  your 
head  submerged  in  a  .deluge  of  milk ;  and  John  didn't  feel  like  laugh- 
ing, because  the  force  of  the  pail  landing  in  his  lap  knocked  him  over 
from  the  stone  on  which  he  was  sitting,  and  he  rolled  down  the  hill, 
white  with  milk,  looking  like  a  snow  man  with  a  pail. 

And  I?  Well,  I  didn't  dare  laugh!  And  as  to  saying  anything, 
there  wasn't  any  need  of  it.     Father  and  John  a  little  later  said  it  all. 

I've  waited  several  years  before  I've  dared  say  much  about  this 
reminiscence. 

I  hope  that  the  participants  will,  after  this  lapse  of  years,  forgive 
"the  boy"  for  thus  exhibiting  "Mud's  peculiarity !" 

— Edward  F.  Bigelow. 


HOW  THEY  KEPT  STILL. 

"Please  let  us  go  to  church  with  you  to-morrow,  Uncle  Thad," 
begged  the  children.     "We'll  be  still,  truly  we  will." 

Uncle  Thad  had  come  to  make  a  visit  to  the  five  little  cousins 
who  lived,  not  all  in  one  house,  but  in  three  houses  built  side  by  side 
in  the  same  big  yard.  The  next  day  was  Sunday,  and  Uncle  Thad  was 
to  sing  a  solo  at  church,  and  of  course,  all  fi/e  wanted  to  go. 

"I'm  afraid  it  would  hardly  do,"  said  Rob's  mother — Rob  was  the 
oldest  of  the  cousins — ^"for  there  isn't  one  of  you  that  sit  still  a 
minute." 

"I'm  sure  I  can,"  cried  Rob;  "I  can  sit  still  five  minutes.  You 
just  try  me  and  see." 

"I'll  give  you  all  a  trial,"  said  Uncle  Thad.  "If  all  of  you  will  sit 
still  here  on  the  steps  for  one  minute,  without  moving  or  speaking, 
I'll  take  you  to  church  with  me." 

So  they  all  sat  down,  and  Uncle  Thad  took  out  his  watch  and  the 
minute  began.  They  were  sitting  very  still,  when  all  at  once  there 
was  the  sound  of  wheels  on  the  driveway  and  Rob  jumped  up  to  see 
who  was  coming.  "It  wasn't  so  easy  after  all,  was  it?"  laughed  I'nclc 
Thad,  and  then  they  began  over  again. 

The  next  time  it  was  Betty  who  spoiled  the  minute  by  s' eing 
a  kite  above  the  tree  tops  and  calling  to  the  others  to  look  at  it.  They 
tried  and  tried,  but  every  time  something  happened  before  the  minute 
was  up,  until  the  children  were  almost  ready  to  cry,  and  Uncle  Thad 
looked  dreadfully  disappointed,  for  after  they  had  tried  so  hard  he 
wanted  them  to  win. 

Just  then  some  one  called  him.  "I'll  just  put  the  watch  here  on 
the  step,  and  you  can  count  your  own  minute,"  he  said.  From  where 
he  stood,  down  bv  the  gate,  he  could  sec  the  fivj  heals  l:ent  ov.r  t'le 
watch,  and  nobody  moved. 


Hi 


248  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

m 

"Time's  up !"  he  called  at  last  as  he  hurried  back  to  the  little  group. 
"Was  it  really  a  whole  minute  that  tirne?*'  asked  Ralph. 
Indeed  it  was,"  cried  Uncle  Thad.    "It  was  two  minutes!" 
'Goody,  goody!"  cried  the  children.    "We  can  go,  can't  we?" 
So  the  next  morning  all  of  them  went  to  church,  and  Uncle  Thad 

declared  that  the  reason  he  sang  so  well  was  because  five  such  good, 

quiet,  little  children  sat  listening  to  him. 

— L.  P.  McAroy. 

WANTED:     AN  OSTRICH  PLUME. 

BY  FRANCES  MARGARET  FOX. 

"I  know  ostrich  plumes  will  be  the  souvenirs,"  declared  the 
prettiest  of  five  girls,  who  were  dressing  in  Elizabeth's  bedroom. 
Elizabeth  lived  in  southern  California,  and  the  four  were  her  cousins 
from  Boston. 

"Oh,  scarcely  ostrich  plumes,"  Elizabeth  protested.  "That  is 
too  much  to  expect !" 

"You  don't  know  Uncle  Henry,  when  you  say  so,"  observed  Nan- 
cy, the  cousin  with  blue  eyes  and  bright,  gold  hair.  "When  he  invited 
us  all  to  go  with  him  to  the  ostrich  farm  and  promised  us  souvenirs 
worth  having,  that  means  plumes,  dear  girls,  and  cousins,  it  means 
long,  beautiful  plumes,  the  best  in  Pasadena.  If  he  gives  us  a  choice 
of  colors  I  shall  say  pale  blue,  thank  you." 

"Mine  shall  be  pink,"  added  Margery,  g^ing  critically  at  her 
brown  hair.  "Uncle  Henry  has  loads  and  loads  of  money,  and  he  loves 
to  spend  it." 

"If  he  thinks  any  of  us  intended  to  decline  his  invitation,  he's 
mistaken,"  laughed  Jane  Anne.  "The  idea  of  telling  us  that  whoever 
refuses  to  come  need  not  expect  a  souvenir!  What  a  day  we  will 
have.  I  know,  because  sister  and  mother  and  I  were  in  Europe  once 
with  Uncle  Henry.  It  wasn't  safe  to  admire  anything  but  cathedrals 
and  sunsets.  Everything  that  money  could  buy  he  bought,  if  one  of 
us  said,  'Isn't  it  pretty!'  Didn't  he,  sister?" 

•  "That's  the  truth,"  laughed  Olive.    "I  had  scarcely  looked  at  this 
necklace  I  am  just  putting  on,  before  it  was  mine." 

"How  jolly!"  exclaimed  Elizabeth.  "I  really  need  an  ostrich 
plume.  I've  wanted  one  for  ages,  but  no  one  in  the  family  ever  has 
had  the  money  for  such  an  extravagance — I  mean,  for  such  a  necessity." 

While  the  girls  were  laughing  and  chattering  Elizabeth's  mother 
was  reading  a  note.    There  was  trouble  in  her  face. 

"Dear  me!' .  she  exclaimed,  "how  can  I  tell  the  child?  Elizabeth," 
she  called,  "will  you  come  downstairs  a  minute?" 

'Certainly,  mother  dear,"  was  the  answer.  Turning  to  her  cousins 
Elizabeth  said,  "Mother  is  just  like  another  girl.  She  has  tp  have  some 
one  button  her  waist  in  the  back,  and  tell  her  how  pretty  she  looks,  and 
that  her  hat  is  on  straight  and  everything.  I  am  sorry  we  can't  go 
with  her  to  Mt.    Lowe,  but  she  has  to  go  to-day  because  she  promised 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  249 

Aunt  Janet    to  go  with  her  party.    Their  souvenirs  will  be  snowballs 
I  suppose." 

When  Elizabeth  ran  down  stairs  she  was  laughing.  When  she. 
returned,  her  steps  were  slow,  and  big  tears  were  rolling  down  her 
cheeks. 

"What's  the  matter?"  exclaimed  the  four.    "Anybody  dead?" 

"Might  as  well  be,"  grumbled  Elizabeth,  hiding  her  face,  in  her 
handkerchief. 

"Why,  what's  the  matter?" 

"I  can't  go,"  said  Elizabeth. 

"Can't  go?  Why  not?" 

"Well,  grandmother's  fussy  about  entertaining  old  ladies  who  are 
usually  left  out  of  things.  You  know  grandmother  has  a  dear  little 
bungalow,  and  once  in  two  weeks,  sometimes  every  week,  she  invites 
two,  three,  four,  or  five  old  ladies  from  the  Old  Ladies'  Home,  or  from 
the  highways  and  byways,  to  come  to  dinner,  bring  their  knitting  and 
stay  all  the  afternoon.    This  happens  to  be  one  of  her  d-days !" 

Elizabeth  broke  down  and  sobbed,  while  the  puzzled  cousins  did 
their  best  to  comfort  her. 

"Well,  what  of  it?"  Olive  inquired.  "What  has  that  to  do  with 
you?" 

"Everything,"  was  thi:  sobbing  rep  y.  "Grandmother's  Jap  fell 
down  and  broke  his  old  arm  and  I  have  to  ^o  over  and  be  B-B-Bridget !" 

"I  should  think  you  had  to  be  Japan"  ventured  Nancy,  and  Eliz- 
abeth laughed  with  her  cousins. 

**You  see,"  she  continued,  "it  leaves  grandmother  to  get  dinner  all 
alone.  The  Jap's  brother  is  coming  at  two  o'clock  to  stay  as  long  as 
grandmother  needs  him ;  but  grandmother  has  to  have  help  about  din- 
ner, don't  you  see?    And  there  goes  my  ostrich  plume." 

"Did  she  know  Uucle  Henry  had  invited  us  to  Pasadena  today?" 

"Dear  me,  no,  or  maybe  she  would  have  served  sandwiches  on  the 
front  porch  to  the  poor  old  ladies." 

"Then  why  don't  you  tell  her  you  can't  come,"  suggested  Mar- 
gery. "Just  say  that  you  need  an  ostrich  plume  worse  than  the  old 
ladies  need  a  big  dinner,  that  will  ruin  their  digestion  and  make  them 
cross  for  a  week." 

"Or,"  put  in  Jane  Anne,  "just  ask  her  to  please  excuse  you." 

"Get  some  one  else,"  persisted  Margery.  "Why  can't  she  hire 
some  one  for  a  few  hours  ?" 

As  the  girls  talked  there  came  to  Elizabeth's  memory  the  vision  of 
a  sweet- faced  grandmother,  and  the  sound  of  a  dear  voice  saying,  "I 
knew  you  would  come,  child.  I  don't  know  what  I  should  do  without 
you." 

"Well,  g^rls,"  she  said  at  last,  "I  don't  know  Uncle  Henry,  and  you 
don't  happen  to  know  father's  only  mother,  so  I  think  we'll  have  to  stay 
with  the  ones  we're  best  acquainted  with  today." 

"That's  not  grammatical,"  corrected  Nancy,  ^^iving  Elizabeth  a 
regular  bear  hug. 


250  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

,"No,  but  it's  the  Golden  Rule  minus  an  ostrich  plume,"  was  the 
reply.  "You  please  tell  Uncle  Henry  I'm  sorry,  and,  girls,  if  you  ex- 
pect to  meet  him  at  the  Pacific  electric  station  on  time,  you  must  start. 
If  Uncle  Henry  is  as  good  as  you  say  he  is  he'll  bring,  me  a  souvenir, 
too." 

"Now,  see  here,"  interrupted  Olive.  "I  can't  bear  to  have  you 
disappointed,  honey,  and  so  I  must  tell  you  Uncle  Henry  is  queer.  He 
does  exactly  as  he  says  he  will.  If  you  don't  go,  you  must  give  up  the 
souvenir  idea,  now.  Honestly,  he  will  think  you  are  silly  to  help  your 
grandmother  get  dinner." 

"It  can't  be  avoided,"  Elizabeth  declared.  "I  can't  be  a  heathen,  if 
I  am  going  to  take  the  place  of  one.  Do  have  a  good  time,  g^rls,  and 
if  Uncle  Henry  should  ask  you  my  favorite  color  in  ostrich  plumes,  tell 
him  white." 

Mother  and  the  cousins  left  together,  leaving  Elizabeth  the  loneli- 
ness of  closing  the  house.  On  the  street  her  cheerfulness  returned. 
"I  won't  let  grandmother  know  how  disappointed  I  am,"  she  argued, 
as  she  breathed  the  perfume  of  roses,  and  rejoiced  in  the  glorious  day. 

"Oh,  you  dear  child,  I  knew  you  would  come,"  exclaimed  grand- 
mother.    "I  don't  know  what  I  should  do  without  you." 

"I  was  sure  you  would  say  that,"  answered  Elizabeth.  "Pm  de- 
lighted to  be  here !"     She  told  the  truth. 

The  old  ladies  that  day  were  five  lonely  strangers  from  the  east. 
Grandmother  had  sought  them  out  one  by  one.  Elizabeth  forgot  her 
lost  plume  in  the  joy  of  waiting  upon  the  smiling,  happy  guests,  until 
grandmother  asked  where  the  four  cousins  were  passing  the  day. 

"They  went  to  the  ostrich  farm  with  Uncle  Henry,"  was  the  reply. 

A  curious  expression  rested  for  a  minute  upon  grandmother's  face, 
but  she  said  nothing  further  until  the  old  ladies,  after  thanking  her  for 
the  pleasant  day,  and  thanking  Elizabeth  for  entertaining  them  with 
songs  they  loved,  went  home. 

Then  grandmother  surprised  Elizabeth.  "Your  grandfather  was  a 
Knight  Templar,"  said  she,  "and  I  am  going  to  give  you  his  white 
ostrich  plume.  It's  an  unusually  beautiful  plume,  and  I  wish  vou  to 
have  it." 

Uncle  Henry  did  bring  Elizabeth  one  of  the  <>ouvenirs.  It  was  an 
ostrich-egg  shell — a  good  one. 


THE  LION'S  TOOTH. 

Who  could  guess  that  the  dandelion  was  the  dent  de  lion,  or  lion's 
tooth? — and  the  tulip  so  called  because  it  looks  like  a  turban,  and  that 
tulip  was  another  name  for  turban?  The  beautiful  gladiolus  is  a 
sword  lily;  gladiolus  (Latin)  means  "a  little  sword."  It  is  so  called 
from  the  shape  of  its  leaves.  The  asphodel  is  from  the  Greek  word 
meaning  "king's  spear."  The  name  daffodil  comes  from  "aphodel," 
and  so  means  the  same  thing. — St.  Nicholas. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  251 


THE  WRONG  DINNER  PAIL. 

• 

When  it  came  to  the  question  of  either  losing,  their  old-fashioned 
country  home  or  earning  money  to  pay  off  the  mortgage,  which  Mr. 
Gilbert's  long  sickness  had  unfortunately  necessitated,  Mrs.  Gilbert 
and  Winthrop  faced  the  situation  with  the  oft-repeated  inquiry,  "What 
can  we  do  ?" 

In  the  dual  conference — and  more  than  one  had  been  held — com- 
posed of  Winthrop  and  his  mother,  nviny  plans  were  talked  over;  but 
for  some  reason  or  other  very  few  appeared  feasible.  One  scheme 
after  another  was  discussed,  and  there  were  objections  to  each — nothing 
which  either  could  help.  At  last  the  matter  reduced  itself  to  the  simple 
alternative — it  must  be  the  taking  of  summer  boarders,  or  lose  the 
home. 

"You  know,  mother,  your  cooking  always  takes  first  prize  at  the 
county  fairs,*'  suggested  Winthrop,  meaningly.  "If  we  once  get 
started,'*  he  continued,  "it  wouldn't  be  long  before  we'd  have  to  put 
up  signs,  'No  room  for  More  Boarders!'  I'm  almost  confident  of  it. 
And  with  what  I  can  save  each  month  at  Chandler  &  Hartzells  we  can 
pay  off  the  mortgage  in  time ;  I  know  we  can,  mother.  I  saw  Thomas 
Eastman  stop  in  front  of  the  house  yesterday  morning,  and  look  critic- 
ally around  the  place.  I  could  guess  of  what  he  was  thinking.  But  his 
g^eed  will  never  be  satisfied — never!  He'll  never  get  the  house  that 
Grandfather  Gilbert  built,  not  while  we  can  help  it,  will  he,  mother?" 

"The  trouble  will  be,  Winthrop,  to  get  the  boarders,"  anxiously 
replied  his  mother.  "I  wouldn't  be  afraid  of  not  getting  all  we  could 
care  for  were  we  once  all  started.  You  know  Mrs.  Willis  advertised 
all  last  summer,  and  part  of  the  season  before,  and  she  got  only  one 
application,  and  that  from  a  dressmaker  who  couldn't  afford  to  stay  in 
the  country  longer  than  two  weeks." 

"I  know,"  replied  Winthrop,  drumming  on  the  table  for  a  moment, 
"but  perhaps  Mrs.  Willis  didn't  go  at  it  the  right  way;  there. might  be 
sometfiing  in  that.  Anyway,  I'm  sure  you  would  succeed  where  she 
couldn't." 

"It's  well  enough  to  say  so,  dear,"  and  Mrs.  Gilbert  met  Win- 
throp's  earnest  gaze  with  a  sweet,  motherly  smile.  "It's  another  thing 
to  prove  it." 

But  "Mrs.  Gilbert  &  Son,"  as  they  playfully  called  themselves,  de- 
cided to  try  the  summer-boarder  scheme,  and  very  early  in  the  spring 
their  advertisement  appeared  in  several  of  the  large  city  dailies,  and 
then  they  waited  anxiously  for  developments. 

The  old-fashioned  Gilbert  homestead  had  been  built  long  years  ago. 
The  house  contained  large,  sunny  rooms,  each  with  a  fireplace,  deep, 
roomy  closets,  and  wide  windows — rooms  about  which  everything  con- 
nected with  them  suggested  rest  and  comfort.  If  one  wanted  to  get 
away  from  the  noise  and  bustle  of  the  city  life  for  a  while,  nowhere 
could  be  fohnd  a  more  comfortable  retreat. 


252  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

But  the  weeks  slipped  rapidly  by,  and  no  letters  of  inquiry  came 
in  answer  to  the  concisely-worded  advertisements,  setting  forth  the  at- 
tractions that  awaited  the  guests  who  wished  to  install  themselves  in 
the  country  home  of  Mrs.  Jonathan  Gilbert. 

"I  think,  Winthrop,  we'll  have  to  give  it  up,"  said  his  mother  with 
evident  discouragement,  after  a  month  had  gone  by  without  anyone's 
desiring  board  with  them.  "It  takes  something  more  than  advertising 
I  am  convinced — one  has  to  be  known!" 

"But  it  isn't  too  late  yet,  mother,"  replied  Winthrop.  "Spring  has 
hardly  begun  even  in  the  city,  and  it's  still  cold  in  the  country,  too  much 
so  for  boarders  even  to  think  of  coming  this  soon." 

"However,  they  made  preparations  before  this,  or  most  people  do," 
responded  Mrs.  Gilbert,  lowering  the  window  to  keep  out  the  draught. 
"But  we  won't  quite  g^ve  up — ^yet,"  she  added  with  something  of  new 
courage  in  her  tone. 

"When  does  the  interest  come  due?"  asked  Winthrop. 

"The  fifth  of  October;  and  if  we  don't  have  it  then,  we'll — " 

"O,  but  we  will,"  interrupted  Winthrop,  quietly.  "I  shall  have  a 
good  deal  saved  by  that  time." 

"But  not  enough  to  meet  the  interest  payment,  d^r.  "It's  more 
than  you  think  it  is." 

June  came  and  the  four  large  airy  rooms  in  the  old  Gilbert  house 
were  still  vacant — and  they  had  been  so  attractively  arranged  for  the 
hoped-for  guests ! 

"It's  too  bad,"  thought  Mrs.  Gilbert,  with  but  little  expectation  that 
any  summer  boarders  would  now  apply,  so  late  was  it  getting  to  be. 
"But  we've  done  all  we  could,  spending  more  for  advertising  than  we 
could  really  afford.     I  don't  see  why  we  should  have  failed." 

Beginning  with  the  tenth  of  June,  all  the  stores  in  the  village  were 
to  be  closed  each  Wednesday  afternoon,  at  twelve-thirty,  thus  giving 
those  employed  as  clerks  a  half  holiday.  On  the  afternoon  of  the  ninth 
of  June  Chandler  &  Hartzell  decided  not  to  open  their  place  of  business 
the  next  day,  not  even  in  the  morning,  as  they  wished  an  opportunity 
to  make  some  necessary  repairs  in  the  store  floor. 

"You  needn't  come  to  the  store  tomorrow,"  announced  Mr.  Chand- 
ler to  Winthrop  as,  just  before  closing,  the  boy  entered  the  office  of  the 
firm  on  an  errand.  "You  may  have  the  entire  day  off.  But  be  sure 
to  be  on  hand  early  Thursday  morning,  there'll  be  quite  a  bit  of  clearing 
up  to  do." 

"I'll  be  here  any  time  you  say,"  replied  Winthrop,  delighted  with 
the  prospect  of  a  whole  day  to  himself. 

If  his  mother  didn't  want  him  for  anything:  especial,  Winthrop 
planned  to  take  the  time  for  a  day's  fishing  on  Whitney  Lake.  Bass 
were  biting  splendidly  there,  and  he  hadn't  had  a  line  in  his  hand  all 
the  spring. 

"Put  me  up  a  pail,  heaping  full,  of  dinner,"  he  cautioned  his 
mother,  going  into  the  kitchen  early  the  next  morning.*  "I  shall  be 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  253 

hungry  as  a  bear  by  noon!  And  your  food — well,  a  little  tastes  like 
some  more  to  a  fellow ;  that's  my  experience." 

Winthrop,  on  reaching  the  lake,  decided  to  leave  the  pail  of  dinner 
snugly  hidden  in  a  clump  of  bushes  on  the  shore. 

"There's  no  place  in  the  boat,'*  he  said  to  himself,  hastily,  "where 
I  can  keep  it  out  of  the  sun,  and  I  don't  want  all  the  good  things  spoiled. 
My!  I  could  eat  half  that's  in  there  now,"  taking  off  the  cover  and  peep- 
ing in.  "But  I  won't ;  I'll  catch  my  fish  first.  Hope  I'll  get  enough  to 
give  Aunt  Sally  Volk  a  mess."  • 

After  leaving  the  pail  behind  a  clump  of  alders,  Winthrop  got  into 
the  low,  narrow  boat,  and  eagerly  pushed  off. 

"Ah,  this  is  fun !"  he  said,  drawing  a  deep  breath. 

Winthrop  had  been  fishing  perhaps  an  hour  when  he  noticed  a 
boat  belonging  to  the  Spring  Hill  House,  a  small  hotel  in  the  village, 
coming  toward  him.  It  contained  two  men,  one  a  young  fellow  about 
his  own  age,  the  other  much  older.  They  were  both  strangers  to 
Winthrop. 

"Probably  they're  boarders,"  thought  the  boy,  a  trifle  longingly. 

Just  at  that  moment  he  felt  the  line  "twitch." 

"It's  a  big  one,"  he  exclaimed,  and  began  slowly  "to  play"  the  big 
gamy  bass  toward  the  boat.  "My!  it's  a  three-pounder,  if  it's  an 
ounce,"  he  cried  as  he  landed  the  "catch"  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 
"He'll  make  a  meal  all  right !" 

In  his  excitement  Winthrop  paid  no  more  attention  to  the  boat 
from  the  hotel.  Before  noon  the  men  had  "worked"  their  way  back 
toward  the  place  where  Winthrop  had  started  out  in  the  morning. 

On  landing,  the  older  man  began  to  look  about  him  in  the  bushes, 
as  though  hunting  for  something. 

"Didn't  they  say  at  the  hotel,  Dan,"  he  said;  turning  to  the  boy, 
"that  they'd  leave  our  dinner  near  here — close  to  the  big  oak?  That's 
the  tree,  sure !"  and  he  pointed  to  a  giant  oak. 

"Perhaps  they  haven't  sent  it  yet,"  suggested  Dan,  looking  at  his 
watch.    "They're  not  overswift  at  the  Spring  Hill  House." 

"But  it's  time  it  was  here,"  replied  his  father,  for  such  the  older 
man  was.     Presently  he  started  over  toward  the  clump  of  alders. 

"Here  it  is— here!"  he  called  back.  "I  thought  they'd  have  it 
here  by  this  time !" 

Laying  down  a  newspaper  for  a  table-cloth,  the  two  strangers  soon 
had  the  dinner  spread  out  before  them ;  and  it  looked  good  to  the  hun- 
gry men. 

"It's  better'n  we  get  at  the  hotel,"  reclared  Dan,  between  the  bites 
of  a  delicious  egg  sandwich.     "We  never  get  bread  like  this  there !" 

"I  was  just  thinking  the  same  thing,"  replied  his  father.  "And 
these  tarts — I  haven't  seen  the  like  since  I  was  a  boy!  We'll  have  to 
see  about  this  when  we  get  back  to  the  Spring  Hill  House !  I  wouldn't 
mind  staying  all  summer,  and  having  your  mother  and  sisters  here,  if 
we  were  sure  of  this  kind  of  cooking.     Say,  Dan,  it's  splendid !" 


254  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

"You  bet!"  was  the  reply  as  Dan  took  a  bite  of  a  spicy  brown 
doughnut. 

"I  wonder  if  they've  found  my  dinner!"  Winthrop  was  coming 
up  from  the  shore  of  the  lake,  and  saw  in  front  of  the  strangers  what 
looked  strangely  like  his  own  dinner  pail,  now  lying  empty  at  Dan's 
feet.     "It — it's  really  mine." 

"Looking  for  something?"  inquired  Mr.  Harmon,  politely. 

"Yes — my  dinner  pail !  And  that  looks  like  it  there,"  he  answered, 
nodding  to  the  pail  on  the  ground  just  in  front  of  him. 

"Did  you  leave  it—" 

"In  that  clump  of  alder  bushes — ^there,"  broke  in  the  boy,  pointing 
to  the  place  where  Mr.  Harmon  had  found  his  dinner. 

"Ex-excuse  me.  We  thought  it  was  from  the  hotel — ^the  Spring 
Hill  House — where  we  are  stopping  for  a  few  days,"  explained  the 
stranger,  with  much  embarrassment.  "They  had  agfreed  to  send  our 
dinner  to  this  place,  and  we  thought  that  under  the  bushes  was  it." 

"Never  mind,"  replied  Winthrop,  generously.  "This  catch,"  ex- 
hibiting his  string  of  white  perch  and  bass,  "is  worth  the  loss  of  a 
dinner." 

"Say,"  suddenly  exclaimed  Mr.  Harmon,  "did  your  mother  cook 
what  was  in  that  pail  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 
"Do  you  live  near  here?" 

"In  the  big  square  house,  the  other  side  of  Welchville  brook." 

"Do  you  suppose — " 

The  gentleman  turned  abruptly  from  Winthrop  to  I>an,  and  then 
back  again. 

"Do  you  suppose  she'd  be  willing  to  take  some  boarders  for  the 
summer?     Have  enough  accommodations  for — eight?" 

"I  think  so,"  stammered  Winthrop,  completely  taken  back  by  the 
suddenness  of  the  man's  inquiry.     Then  quickly :    "I'm  sure  we  have  !'* 

"I  can  supply  that  number.  I  wonder  if  your  mother  could  find  it 
convenient  to  take  us  next  week?"  in  a  half  doubtful  tone. 

"Yes,  sir.  Our  advertisement's  in  that  paoer  you've  just  thrown 
down — *Rooms  and  Board  now  Ready.'  You'll  find  it  under  'Maine 
Summer  Resorts.' " 

"It  isn't  the  first  time  one's  home  has  been  saved  by  a  dinner  pail," 
remarked  Mrs.  Gilbert  to  Winthrop,  early  in  the  fall,  as  she  counted 
ov^r  the  interest  monev  due  Mr.  Willis  the  next  day. 

"It  wasn't  the  pail  that  did  it/'  replied  Winthrop,  shyly,  "  'Twas 
the  <;ol^ndid  cookine:  inside  the  pail.  I  knew  if  that  got  out,  we'd  get 
all  the  boarders  we  wanted.'* 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  255 


THE  LOST  HOUR. 

'*Coax  your  auntie  to  let  you  stay  home  this  time/'  urged  Frank, 
as  he  sat  in  the  sand  pile  with  Lester.  "Sunday  school  is  only  one  hour 
anyway,  so  it  don't  matter  for  once..  I  have  this  sore  foot  and  can't  go, 
so  you  might  stay  with  me.    It's  awful  lonesome  alone." 

"I  haven't  missed  a  Sunday  yet,"  said  Lester,  thinking  of  Miss 
Ethel  and  all  the  boys  and  girls.  "I  know  my  golden  text  and  every 
thing." 

"Well,  then,  it  don't  make  any  difference  whether  you  go  or  not," 
said  the  little  boy  with  his  foot  tied  up  in  a  bandage.  "Your  auntie 
will  let  you  stay  if  you  just  ask  her." 

"Want  to  stay  at  home  from  Sunday  school?"  said  Auntie  Belle 
when  Lester  asked  her.  "Why,  isn't  this  a  sudden  notion?  You  told 
me  you  hadn't  missed  a  day.    I  am  afraid  your  mamma  won't  like  it." 

But  both  boys  coaxed  until  she  said  Lester  might  stay  with  his 
lame  friend.  Mamma  had  been  called  away  suddenly  on  Saturday 
evening,  so  Aunt  Belle  came  over  to  stay  with  Lester  and  little  Nell 
until  Mamma  and  Papa  came  home. 

"I  guess  you  didn't  go  to  Sunday  school  yesterday,  did  you 
Lester?"  asked  old  Mrs.  Brown.  "I  missed  my  paper  and  have  been 
lonesome  for  it  ever  since." 

"No — I — that  is,  I  stayed  at  home  with  Frank.  He  has  a  sore 
foot,  you  know/'  said  Lester,  remembering  that  he  always  brought  a 
Sunday  school  paper  to  the  dear  old  lady  who  could  not  go  herself. 
"I'm  sorry  about  the  paper." 

"So  am  I,  but  it  isn't  often  you  miss,"  said  Miss  Ethel,  meeting 
him  on  the  street  as  he  was  going  to  the  store  for  Mamma.  "I  was 
just  on  my  way  to  see  if  you  were  sick,  for  you  are  one  of  my  most 
faithful  scholars." 

"I  wish  I  hadn't  stayed  at  home,"  thought  Lester,  as  he  hurried 
on  after  seeing  Miss  Ethel's  grieved  look.  "I  guess  it  don't  pay  to  lose 
even  one  Sunday." 

And  when  the  end  of  the  year  came,  what  do  you  suppose  hap- 
pened? Why,  the  minister  read  a  list  of  the  names  of  the  boys  and 
girls  who  had  not  been  absent  a  single  Sunday  from  Sunday  school, 
and  gave  them  nice  books  and  prizes.  There  were  little  boys  and 
big  boys,  little  girls  and  big  girls,  and  some  grown  people,  but  Lester's 
name  was  not  among  them. 

"For  just  one  hour  that  day,  Mamma,  I  missed  a  prize,"  said 
Lester,  when  he  told  his  mamma  all  about  it.  "And  that  isn't  all, 
either.  All  the  time  I  wanted  to  be  in  Sunday  school.  I'm  going  to 
do  better  next  year." 

— Sunday  School  Messenger. 


"l  HAVE  TO  STAY, 

SEWING  MY  PATCHWORK  UEKORE  I  PLAV." 


THE  PATCHWORK  QUILT. 

It's  a  long  way  to  the  end  of  a  beclquitt, 

Over  and  over  so. 
Oh,  the  flowers  and  the  birds  never  sew  in  the  shunshir 

Never — they  only  grow ! 
But  here  in  the  hammock  I  have  to  stay. 
Sewing  my  patchwork  before  I  play. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  257 

Robin  dear,  high  up  in  the  apple-tree, 

Calling  "Cheer  up!  cheer  ye!" 
How  do  you  think  I  can  go  to  the  orchard? 

Here  I  am  sewing — see! 
Over  and  over  I  have  to  go 
Way  down  the  seam,  so  long  and  slow. 

Away  in  the  orchard,  the  honey  bees  drowsily 

Droning  so  far  away, 
Tell  of  the  clovers  that  want  me  to  gather  them, 

Calling,  "Come  out  and  play!" 
But  over  and  over,  and  through  and  through, 
No  clovers  or  play  with  a  seam  to  do! 

Oh,  it's  one  crooked  stitch,  and  then  two  crooked  stitches. 

And  one  crooked  stitch  makes  three! 
With  the  sunshine,  or  the  honey  bees  droning  so, 

Somehow  it*s  hard  to  see. 
Robin,   I'm  shutting  my  eyes  to  dream — 
I've  sewed  to  the  end  of  my  patchwork  seam! 

— Carolyn  S.  Bailey. 


THE  MONTH  OF  MAY. 

It  comes  just  after  April, 

'  And  rigHt  before  'tis  June ; 
And  every  bird  that's  singing 

Has  this  same  lovely  tune: 
"You  need  to  ask  your  mother 
To  let  you  go  and  play!" 
The  very  breezes  whisper, 
"You  may!  You  may!  You  may!" 

There  are  no  frosts  to.  freeze  you. 

And  no  fierce  winds  to  blow, 
But  winds  that  seem  like  kisses, 

So  soft  and  sweet  and  slow. 
The  lovely  sun  is  shining 

'Most  every  single  day. 

"Of  course  you  may  go  out,  dears — 
It  is  the  month  of  'May' !" 

Anna  B.  Bryant,  in  The  Mayflower. 


258  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

HOW  PETER  NAMED  HIMSELF. 

•  BY  R6SE  THORN. 

Percy  Morgan's  aunty,  going  to  Europe,  presented  her  pet  cat  to 
her  nephew.  Since  this  aunty  had  lived  just  next  door,  it  was  not  a 
hard  matter  to  induce  her  "Peter"  to  change  homes,  although  at  first  he 
winked  indifferently  at  Percy's  coaxing,  and  refused  to  budge  an  inch 
from  the  top  of  the  post  by  the  veranda  steps. 

But  night  fell  cold,  and  Peter  was  hungry;  so  he  rose,  5tretched 
himself,  and  walked  solemnly  over  to  the  next  house. 

After  his  hunger  was  appeased  at  Percy's  eager  hands,  he  was 
persuaded  to  sit  in  front  of  the  open  fire  in  the  library  and  be  stroked 
arid  petted  by  his  new  master.  He  even  deigned  to  sing  a  low  song  in 
his  deep  bass  voice. 

With  this  he  seemed  to  consider  himself  completely  installed  in  his 
new.  home. 

Percy  was  delighted  with  his  new  pet.  It  was  "so  nice  to  have 
something  to  play  with  which  was  alive !" 

One  day  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  "What  a  horrid  name  Peter  is  for 
my  nice  cat !     I  don't  see  what  did  make  aunty  call  him  Peter !" 

"Rechristen  him,"  suggested  papa.  Papa  was  laid  up  on  the  sofa 
for  a  few  days  with  a  sprained  ankle,  and  was,  therefore,  ready  to  be 
useful  mentally  to  any  one. 

Percy  gladly  caught  at  the  suggestion.  "May  I,  papa?  Do  you 
think  he'd  learn  a  new  name?"     * 

"Certainly." 

Percy  sat  lost  in  thought  for  several  minutes,  and  seemed  to  be 
intently  watching  a  stick  of  wood  burn  in  two  and  fall  apart.  "Papa," 
he  finally  said,  **I  can't  think  of  any  name  nice  enough." 

Papa  had  also  been  thinking.  "Suppose  we  let.  him  choose  his 
own  name,"  he  said. 

"Oh.  how?  how?" 
"I'll  show  you.     Bring  me  a  newspaper  and  the  shears." 

Then  he  showed  his  son  how  to  trim  off  the  margins  and  cut  them 
into  lengths  of  about  six  inchest  "Now,"  said  he,  taking  out  his  pencil, 
"we'll  write  a  name  on  each  one.  Let  me  see — "  and  he  scribbled  busily 
until  every  strip  was  marked.     Then  he  read  the  list  to  Percy : 

"Jerry,  Tony,  Ginger,  Tom.  Grimalkin,  Tiger,  Cato,  Plato,  Otto, 
Mustafa,  G-esar,  Pene." 

The  bov  laughed.  "Why,  papa,  I  think  some  are  very  queer. 
What  is  that  Grim— Grin  — " 

"Grimalkin  means  an  old  cat." 

"But  my  cat  isn't  old."  • 

Papa  smiled.,    "No.  that's  true,  dear ;  but  he  will  be  if  he  lives  long 

enough,  and  just  while  he's  young  you  might  call  him  *Grim'  for  short. ** 
"All  right,"  and  Percy's  face  was  perfectly  contented. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  259 

"Now,  then,  tie  the  cord  across  the  room  and  then  pin  the  papers 
upon  it  as  Bridget  pins  her  clothes  upon  the  line.  Good !  Now  stand 
here  by  me  and  jar  the  line  so  that  the  papers  will  flutter,  and  see  if 
Peter  won't  try  to  catch  them.  The  one  he  succeeds  in  pulling  off  will 
have  his  name  on  it/' 

Percy  quickly  started  them  dancing  like  veritable  sprites,  and  Peter 
was  all  attention  in  a  twinkling.  He  ran  along  under  the  line,  looking 
up  curiously  at  each  quivering  paper. 

Back  and  forth  several  times  he  went.  He  mounted  a  chair,  and 
putting  his  head  very  knowingly  on  one  side,  reached  out  his  paw 
toward  an  end  paper.  No;  it  was  too  far  off.  To  the  other  end  he 
ran,  where,  springing  to  Percy's  shoulder,  he  attempted  to  walk  from 
it  down  the  string,  but  fell  to  the  floor. 

"Peter  thought  he  could  walk  a  tight  rope  without  any  practice, 
didn't  he?"  said  papa.  But  Percy  was  laughing  too  hard  to  reply,  or 
even  to  wonder  what  a  tight  rope  was. 

There  was  an  ottoman  on  the  floor  with  a  fur  rug  thrown  over  it. 
Peter  went  over  to  it  and  threw  himself  upon  it,  but  still  closely  watched 
the  tantalizing  papers.  Finally  he  fixed  his  eyes  brightly  on  one,  while 
his  tail  thrashed  back  into  the  fur  and  twitched  excitedly,  sometimes 
only  the  tip,  and  sometimes  with  a  quiver  that  ran  its  ivhole  length. 
Suddenly  his  claws  gripped  the  edge  of  the  ottoman,  his  eyes  dilated, 
and  with  a  mighty  spring  he  brought  down  a  paper.  Percy  fairly 
shrieked  with  delight.  In  fact,  he  was  so  excited  that  he  forgot  all 
about  the  name. 

•*Run  and  get  the  paper!"  cried  papa.  "He'll  tear  it  up,  and  then 
you'll  never  know  what  his  name  is," 

Percy  quickly  secured  the  precious  paper  then,  which  the  cat  was 
tossing  >yildly  about  the  room.  He  slowly  spelled  out  the  name  thereon. 
"O  papa,  he's  called  himself  Caesar!    That's  like  a  king,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes;  and  the  old  Caesars  were  great  conquerors,  so  it  is  a  very 
fitting  name  for  such  a  conquering  hero  as  your  cat  has  proved  himself 
to  be." — The  Youth's  Companion. 


Oh,  the  pretty,  brave  things !  through  the  coldest  days. 

Imprisoned  in  walls  of  brown. 
They  never  lost  heart  though  the  blast  shrieked  loud. 

And  the  sleet  and  the  hail  came  down ; 
But  patiently  each  wrought  her  beautiful  dress. 

Or  fashioned  her  beautiful  crown ; 
And  now  they  are  coming  to  brighten  the  world. 

Still  shadowed  by  winter's  frown ; 
And  well  may  they  cheerily  laugh,  "Ha !  ha !" 

In  a  chorus  soft  and  low. 
The  millions  of  flowers  hid  under  the  ground — 

Yes — millions — beginning  to  grow. 

— Selected. 


260  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


LOOSE  ENDS. 

In  the  days  when  stockings  and  mittens  were  knit  by  hand  the 
marked  difference  between  a  good  knitter  and  a  poor  one  was  the  way 
the  loose  ends  were  fastened. 

A  dropped  stitch  could  be  seen  and  picked  up,  a  poorly  shaped 
mitten  could  be  worn,  but  careless  fastening  of  the  yam  at  the  thumb 
and  hand  was  inexcusable.  For  at  the  most  inconvenient  time  the  end 
would  come  loose  and  the  mitten  be  raveled. 

How  many  loose  ends  we  find !  Loose  ends  in  business,  in  house- 
keeping, in  church,  in  state.  All  of  them  the  result  of  loose  ends  in 
character. 

One  of  the  peculiar  things  about  loose  ends  is  they  do  not  ravel  and 
annoy  until  there  is  some  wear  and  tear  upon  the  garment. 

How  many  young  men  fail  because  of  some  defect,  some  streak 
of  laziness  that  did  not  show  until  put  to  the  test.  Defects  that  might 
have  been  a  veritable  defense. 

Girls  by  the  hundred  are  not  attaining  the  highest  things  because 
of  the  loose  ends. 

Martha  always  disliked  to  spell.  She  liked  other  studies  better. 
"I  do  not  like  spelling/'  she  said,  "and  it  will  not  show  if  I  do  not  know 
it.    There  is  the  dictionary." 

She  was  capable  and  obliging  and  was  offered  a  responsible  posi- 
tion. But  there  were  many  letters  to  write.  So  many,  in  fact,  that  there 
was  no  time  to  learn  spelling  from  the  dictionary.  She  could  not  accept 
it. 

Mary  aspired  to  be  a  great  music  teacher.  It  was  not  her  g^eat 
desire  to  play,  but  to  teach. 

She  read  music  easily,  rapidly,  but  how  she  disliked  scales  and 
exercises. 

"How  can  I  teach  successfully  unless  I  know?"  she  asked  herself. 
And  she  worked  unceasingly  on  technique. 

Mary  had  many  pupils.  One  showed  such  great  promise  that  Mary 
insisted  she  be  sent  to  a  conservatory. 

When  she  took  her  first  lesson  the  teacher  wanted  to  know  where 
she  had  learned  her  technique. 

4 

The  faculty  decided  that  one  who  could  so  teach  scales  and  exer- 
cises must  come  to  their  school  to  teach. 

Mary  is  there  today,  has  a  large  salary,  and  is  happy  in  the  thought 
that  there  were  no  loose  ends  in  her  training. — Young  People. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  261 

FOR  THE  LITTLE  INVALID. 

To  the  many  "shut-in  people"  whose  view  of  the  outdoor  world 
is  confined  within  the  narrow  limits  of  a  single  window-frame  here  is 
an  idea  that  may  give  pleasure.  One  early  spring  day  it  came  to  me, 
as  I  sat  at  my  sunny  east  window  looking  out  at  the,  green  lawn  and 
the  shaded  village  street  beyond.  "How  lovely  this  view  would  be,"  I 
thought,  "seen  through  a  frame  of  flowers  and  leaves." 

My  window  is  an  ordinary  one,  about  eighteen  inches  from  the 
floor  inside,  and  two  feet  six  inches  above  the  ground  on  the  outside. 
[  had  the  ground  beneath  the  window  spaded  and  put  in  order,  and  on 
each  side,  even  with  the  casing,  I  had  planted  wild  cucumbers  and 
flowering  beans,  with  cords  placed  for  the  vines  to  run  on.  Between 
these  vines,  in  the  ground  below  the  window,  were  placed  cream  and 
scarlet  dahlia  bulbs. 

The  cucumber  and  bean  vines  were  chosen  because  of  their  rapid 
growth,  and  it  seemed  but  a  few  days  before  the  tips  of  the  vines  were 
looking  in  at  my  window.  From  this  time  on  it  was  an  exquisite 
hourly  pleasure  to  watch  their  growth,  and  when  the  flowers  appeared 
the  feathery  white  of  the  cucumber  and  the  pink  of  the  flowering  beans 
made  a  beautiful  harmony  of  color  and  filled  my  room  with  a  delight- 
ful fragrance;  and  later,  when  the  dahlia  blossoms'  scarlet  and  cream 
formed  a  stately  row  across  the  window,  the  effect  was  gorgeous.  As 
my  window  was  sheltered  from  the  first  frosts  by  the  house  my  flower- 
frame  retained  its  beauty  all  through  the  simimer  and  until  late  in  the 
autumn. 

As  to  the  selection  of  plants,  any  favorite  vines  or  flowers  may  be 
combined ;  though  I  chose  the  comrtion,  homely,  easily  grown  vines  and 
flowers,  and  they  gave  me  a  summer  full  of  beauty  and  fragrailce  and 
happiness,  as  they  may  to  anyone  who  will  take  a  little  trouble. — Ladies' 
Home  Journal. 

MAIDEN  MAY 

The  maiden  May,  all  fresh  and  fair. 

Comes  smiling  coyly  from  the  south, 
With  apple-blossoms  in  her  hair 

And  mossy  rosebuds  in  her  mouth. 

The  birds  with  song  her  coming  greet, 

The  tulips  wave  their  banners  wide, 
While  o'er  her  path  the  lilac  sweet 

Pours  "love's  young  dream"  in  flowing  tide. 

The  children  hail  her  from  afar, 

And  clap  their  tiny  hands  in  glee, 
As  blushing  bud  or  blossom  star 

She  hangs  on  every  shnib  and  tree.  ■ — Sel. 


262  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

IHE  GREAT  CIRCUS  PARADE. 

Going  to  see  the  circus  parade,  Hillary?"  sang  out  Russel  Hyde, 
as  he  halted  for  a  minute  at  the  door  of  the  store  where  Hillary  worked 
before  and. after  school,  and  Saturdays. 

Hillary  was  busy  filling  some  cracker  boxes  from  a  barrel  that 
stood  close  by,  and  stopped  only  long  enough  to  answer,  "I  g^ess  not; 
Saturday  is  a  busy  day  in  the  store." 

"Oh,  come  on!"  It's  going  to  be  a  big  parade.  I  heard  it  come 
into  town  early  this  morning.  IVe  just  come  from  the  circus  grounds. 
They  have  a  tent  that  covers  the  whole  of  that  big  field  on  High  Street 
on  which  we  used  to  play  ball.  It's  fine,  I  tell  you !  My  father  is  going 
to  take  me  to  the  show  this  afternoon." 

Russell  paused  to  take  breath,  while  Hillary  Bygrave  answered 
quietly,  but  firmly,  "Fd  like  to  see  the  parade  first-rate,  Russell;  but 
it's  no  use  wishing  when  you  have  work  to  do."  Then  he  quietly  went 
on  with  his  cracker  sorting. 

"I  don't  believe  you  know  what  a  parade  it's  going  to  be,"  Russell 
insisting  still  lingering.  "It's  going  to  be  headed  by  a  band  of  wild 
Indians ;  and  there's  going  to  be  an  old  mail  coach  full  of  squaws,  a 
squad  of  heavy  artillery,  two  of  the  largest  lions  in  the  world,  camels, 
leopards,  wild  cats,  and  four  large  trained  elephants !"  Russell  had  the 
whole  program  at  his  tongue's  end. 

Hillery's  ^yes  gleamed,  but  he  still  returned  the  same  quiet 
answer,  "I'd  like  to  see  it  first-rate;  but  it's  no  use  wishing, — I  cannot 

go. 

"It's  only  just  round  the  comer,"  persisted  Russell  starting  as  the 
sound  of  music  caught  his  ear. 

Just  then  Hillery's  employer  who  had  been  an  interested  listener 
to  the  boys'  conversation  spoke  up:  "Don't  ur^e  the  lad,  boy.  He'll 
have  time  enough  to  see  another  circus  before  he  grows  up.  He  is  right 
in  sticking  to  his  work.  It  is  the  only  way  to  get  on  in  life.  I'm  glad 
to  see  he  has  so  much  common  sense." 

Then  he  gave  Hillary  an  encouraging  pat  on  the  shoulder,  and 
passed  on ;  while  Russell,  finding  it  useless  to  urge  his  friend  any 
longer,  followed  the  enticing  music. 

Left  alone  Hillary  kept  steadily  on  setting  his  boxes  in  neat  rows 
upon  the  shelf,  just  wishing,  boy  fashion,  that  the  circus  would  take  a 
notion  to  pass  by  the  store.  But  it  did  not,  although  an  occasional 
shriek  of  the  calliope  told  him  that  it  was  on  its  way. 

"I  would  like  to  see  those  lions,  and  the  trained  elephants,"  he 
mused.  "And  I  never  saw  any  heavy  artillery — but  then,  as  Mr.  Cut- 
ting says,  there  will  be  other  circuses ;  and  I'm  not  going  to  let  thinking 
about  this  one  make  a  lazy  boy  of  me." 

Thi§  ended  circus  thoughts  for  Hillary.  And  the  rest  of  the 
morning,  clear  up  to  the  noon  hour,  found  him  a  very  busy  boy. 

When  he  took  his  cap  to  go  to  dinner,  Mr.  Cutting  looked  up  from 
his  desk  and  remarked  pleasantly:    "I  am  sorry  it  happened  that  you 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  263 

could  not  see  the  circus  parade  this  morning.  If  work  hadn't  been 
so  rushing  I'd  have  let  you  off." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right ;  I  didn't  mind  it  much.  I  forgot  all  about  it 
as  soon  as  the  music  stopped,"  replied  Hillary  starting  on. 

"Wait  a  minute,"  said  Mr.  Cutting.  "How  would  you  like  to  go 
to  the  circus  with- me,  this  evening?" 

"You  mean  to  the  real  show  ?"  Hillary's  eyes  were  sparkling,  and 
he  drew  in  a  long,  deep  breath  of  anticipation. 

"Yes,  the  real  show !  An  old  codger  like  me  doesn't  forget  that 
he  was  once  a  boy.  And  I  reckon  a  troop  of  wild  Indians  with  their 
war  whoops  will  make  me  feel  young  again." 

"I  didn't  think  it  would  be  this  circus !"  Hillary  ejaculated,  as  he 
raced  home  to  tell  his  mother  the  joyful  news.  "I  thought  I  should 
see  a  circus  sometime,  but  I  didn't  think  it  would  be  this  one !" 


ANfMALS   AND  FIRE. 

Mbst  animals  are  afraid  of  fire  and  will  flee  from  it  in  terror.  To 
others  there  is  a  fascination  about  a  flame,  and  they  will  walk  into  it, 
even  though  tortured  by  the  heat.  Some  firemen  were  talking  the 
other  day  about  the  conduct  of  animals  during  a  fire.  A  horse  in  a 
burning  stable,  they  agreed,  was  wild  with  fear,  but  a  dog  was  as  cool 
in  a  fire  as  at  any  other  time.  A  dog,  they  said,  keeps  his  nose  down 
to  the  floor,  where  the  air  is  purest,  and  sets  himself  calmly  to  finding 
his  way  out.  Cats  in  fires  howl  piteously.  They  hide  their  faces  from 
the  light  and  crouch  in  corners.  When  their  rescuer  lifts  them  they  are, 
as  a  rule,  quite  docile  and  subdued,  never  biting  or  scratching.  Birds 
seem  to  be  hypnotized  by  fire  and  keep  perfectly  still.  Even  the 
loquacious  parrot  in  a  fire  has  nothing  to  say.  Cows,  like  dogs,  do  not 
show  alarm.  They  are  easy  to  lead  forth  and  often  find  their  way  out 
themselves.  Rodents  seem  never  to  have  any  difficulty  in  escaping 
from  fires.  The  men  said  that  in  their  experience  they  had  never  come 
upon  the  burned  skeleton  of  a  rat  or  mouse. — Golden  Days. 


SONG  OF  THE  GRASS  BLADES 

Peeping,  peeping,  here  and  there, 

In  lawns  and  meaflows  everywhere, 

Coming  up  to  find  the  spring. 

And  hear  the  robin  rebreast  sing. 

Creeping  under  children's  feet, 

Glancing  at  the  violets  sweet ; 

Growing  into  tiny  bowers. 

For  the  dainty  meadow  flowers. 

We  are  small,  but  think  a  minute 

Of  a  world  with  no  grass  in  it.  — Selected. 


264  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

THE  COWARD  OF  THE  SCHOOL. 

By  J.  S.  Ellis. 

m 

"Spartacus"  Bangs — ^the  name  had  stuck  from  that  day  in  the 
history  class  when  they  were  discussing  the  men  in  history  one  most 
admires.  The  name,  given  by  Harold  in  a  moment  of  self-forgetting^ 
was  received  with  a  bur^t  \of  laughter.  Even  the  teacher  smiled,  for 
it  was  a  standing  joke  Harold  Bangs  was  the  most  timid  boy  in  school. 

Even  the  girls  could  do  things  from  which  Harold  shrank 
in  horror.  He  could  not  cross  the  foot-log  over  the  creek,  which  they 
skipped  lightly  along.  When  they  stumbled  upon  a  harmless  striped 
snake  in  the  grass  the  girls  merely  screamed,  but  Harold  ran  wildly 
away,  and  hated  himself,  while  he  did  it. 

For  no  one  realized  his  shortcomings,  more  than  the  boy  himself. 
He  looked  wistfully  on  while  boys  ventured  on  dizzy  heights,  scaled 
bam  roofs,  climbed  windmill  towers.  He  knew  that  if  he  were  to 
attempt  these  things  his  head  would  be  whirling  before  he  was  ten  feet 
from  the  ground. 

Not  a  week  after  Harold  had  announced  Spartacus  as  his  hero,. 
Fred  Famley's  nose  began  to  bleed  in  school.  He  waved  his  hand  for 
some  time  before  attracting  the  teacher's  attention,  and  the  handker- 
chief became  saturated  with  blood.  Harold  was  at  the  board  with  the 
arithmetic  class  and  turned  to  see  what  was  the  cause  of  the  disturbance. 
Then  when  the  school  was  watching  Fred  walk  out  of  the  room,  they 
^  '  heard  a  moan  and  saw  Harold  tumble  in  a  heap  on  the  floor.  The  teacher 
had  to  carry  him  out  of  the  room  and  bathe  his  temples  with  cold  water 
before' he  recovered.  At  recess  Harold  remained  at  his  seat,  but  he 
could  hear  the  boys  shouting:     "Did  you  see  Spartacus?'*  "Fainted."^ 

"Well  I  never  did !  "  And  when  he  went  home  that  night  three 
girls  from  the  grade  below  his  walked  behind  him  calling ;  "Spartacus, 
Spartacus,  what  makes  you  so  brave  T' 

Harold  had  one  friend  who  was  somewhat  of  a  personage  in  the 
little  prairie  town.  Peter  Mocket  had  been  a  sailor  during  the  best 
years  of  his  life,  but  in  old  age  he  had  drifted  far  from  the  sea  and 
settled  down  to  the  peaceful  occupation  of  mending  shoes.  His  shop 
was  a  favorite  resort  of  the  boys.  Marvelous  were  the  tales  he  told 
of  storms  at  sea,  and  the  countries  upon  which  he  had  nofrset  foot  were 
insignificant. 

The  stories  which  Harold  loved  best  to  hear  were  of  the  dark, 
stormy  nights  at  sea,  when  the  wind  was  lashing  the  waves,  and  the 
sailors  were  sent  aloft  to  trim  the  sails.  He  listened  to  the  tales,  thrilled 
by  the  dangers  which  the  men  faced,  and  could  forget,  for  the  moment, 
that  he  was  a  coward. 

"Weren't  you  afraid  to  climb  the  masts  when  the  wind  was  blow- 
ing?'* he  would  ask  at  the  close  of  these  recitals. 

"There  was  no  tiitie  to  be  afraid,"  Peter  would  growl,  without 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  265 

looking  up  from  his  work.  "When  the  captain  or  the  mate  spoke  up  it 
was  jump  and  be  lively  lads,  or  a  ropes  end  for  you." 

Harold  usually  had  his  lessons  well  prepared,  but  sometimes  the 
lash  of  the  waves,  the  hoarse  voice  of  the  captain  shouting  orders  to 
the  men  aloft  clinging  to  the^  spars,  and  the  roll  of  the  ship,  come  be- 
tween him  and  the  pages  of  the  book.  Sometime,  some  day,  he  would 
show  these  peojple  that  he  was  not  at  heart  a  coward. 

No  one  despised  his  cowardice  more  than  he  himself  did. 

They  were  deep  in  their  lessons  one  day,  when  the  electric  bells 
all  over  the  building  began  to  ring.  C-r-r-r-r-n-g,  c-r-r-r-r-n-g,  c-rr- 
r-r-n-g.  Three  rings,  repeated  three  times — ^the  fire-alarm!  Instantly 
work  stopped.  Classes  passed  swiftly  to  their  seats.  Books  were  caught 
under  one  arm  and,  without  stopping,  the  lines  filed  through  the  ward- 
robes, snatching  at  coats  and  caps.  Without  confusion,  without  haste — 
though  more  than  one  face  paled  at  the  black  cloud  of  smoke  that 
filled  the  lower  halls — they  passed  out  in  double  columns,  obedient  to 
the  sharp  words  of  command.  The  drills  had  been  practiced  faithfully ; 
the  result  was  perfect ;  there  was  no  failure. 

It  was  an  excited  throng  that  faced  about,  when  the  last  pupil  was 
out/  and  beheld  black  clouds  of  smoke  pouring  from  the  windows  of 
their  beautiful  school  building.  Some  of  the  teachers  began  to  cry 
hysterically,  now  that  all  danger  was  over.  Harold  had  been  terribly 
frightened.  Indeed,  his  limbs  still  trembled  so  that  he  could  hardly 
conceal  his  agitation.  But  when  he  looked  up  at  the  face  of  Mr.  Shafer 
the  principal,  he  saw  that  his  face,  too,  was  pale. 

Amid  the  clatter  of  the  pupils  the  volunteer  fire  company  rattled 
up  and  the  crowd  fell  back.  Volunteer  fire  companies  do  not  work 
with  the  accuracy  of  the  organized  fire  departments  of  the  cities.  The 
hose  cart  was  on  the  ground,  but  the  hook  and  ladder  company  did 
not  come.  Streams  of  water  had  begun  to  play  through  the  windows 
of  the  first  floor  and  basement,  but  there  was  crying  need  for  water 
on  the  second  floor.  The  ladders,  the  ladders !  Why  didn't  they  come  ? 
A  crowd  of  boys  started  fleet-footed  down  the  street  to  find  the  cause 
of  the  delay.  Then  Miss  Arnold,  the  teacher  of  the  eighth  grade,  ran 
screaming  to  Mr.  Shafer  and  caught  him  by  the  arm. 

"Lissy  and  Hazel,  Lissy  and  Hazel!"  she  screamed  in  his  ear. 
"O,  they're  up  in  the  garret  room.  They  went  up  there  to  work 
arithmetic." 

Harold,  who  was  standing  near,  saw  the  principal  stagger  back, 
as  though  struck  a  heavy  blow,  and  throw  his  hands  to  his  face.  In 
a  moment  there  was  such  a  screaming  and  crying  around  him  and  Miss 
Arnold  that  the  noise  was  deafening.  Mr.  Shafer  broke  suddenly  away 
from  the  group  and  ran  to  the  schoolhouse  door  and  disappeared  in 
the  smoke. 

The  "garret"  room  was  a  large  room  fitted  up  in  the  attic  and  light- 
ed only  by  skylights.  There  had  been  some  intention,  when  the  build- 
ing was  constructed,  of  using  it  for  a  classroom,  but  this  plan  had  been 
abandoned,  because  of  its  inaccessibility.    Occasionally,  by  special  per- 


266  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

mission,  pupils  were  allowed  to  go  to  this  room  to  study,  and  here  it 
was  that  Lissy  Means  and  Hazel  Eriscon  had  gone. 

Breathlessly  they  waited,  talking  in  whispers.  The  tragedy  of  the 
burning  schoolhouse  had  become  as  nothing  compared  to  the  struggle 
for  life  hidden  by  the  black  smoke. 

After  ages  of  waiting,  a  boy  farthest  out  began  to  shout  and 
point  upward.  Olit  on  the  roof  of  the  schoolhouse  was  Mr.  Shafer,  and 
beside  him,  clinging  to  him  and  crying,  were  Lissy  and  Hazel. 

"Th'e  ladders !"  a  man  shouted.  "We  must  have  the  ladders  quick, 
before  the  roof  falls." 

Feverishly  they  looked  in  the  direction  from  which  the  ladder  cart 
was  expected,  but  it  was  not  in  sight.  Others  started  to  find  what  mishap 
was  delaying  the  ladder  company. 

Meanwhile  one  of  the  firemen  was  coiling  a  long  rope  for  a  throw. 
He  whirled  it  about  his  head,  but  it  fell  far  short  of  the  fifty  feet  to  the 
roof.     Others  tried  with  no  better  success. 

The  heat  bursting  from  doors  and  windows  was  intense,  and  the 
crowd  was  forced  back.  If  help  was  to  come,  it  must  come  soon.  The 
children  saw  this  in  the  faces  of  the  elders  and  were  terrified.  They 
could  not  understand  how  much  the  grave  faces  meant,  but  there  was 
deadly  fear  in  the  heart  of  everyone. 

The  men  had  given  up  trying  to  throw  the  rope  and  were  standing 
helplessly  by.  The  principal  was  kneeling  on  the  side  of  the  roof 
nearest  them,  with  an  arm  about  each  of  the  children.  Suddenly  Harold 
Bangs  darted  out  from  the  crowd  and  ran  to  the  men  with  the  rope. 

**Give  it  to  me !'  he  cried. 

Seizing  the  rope  he  ran  to  the  comer  of  the  schoolhouse,  with  all 
eyes  following.  For  ornamental  purposes  lighter  colored  bricks  had 
been  used  on  the  comers,  at  intervals  of  six  or  eight  inches,  which 
projected  a  half  inch  from  the  surface.  Using  the  projections  for 
footing  and  fingerholds,  the  boy  began  to  climb  slowly  up  the  comer. 

When  it  became  evident  what  he  was  attempting  a  murmur  of 
surprise  ran  through  the  crowd,  mixed  with  pity  and  even  contempt. 
It  seemed  so  certain  that  it  was  but  a  boy's  foolish  whim  that  all  con- 
fidently expected  to  see  him  drop  down,  after  a  few  feet.  Boys  had 
attempted  to  climb  these  comers,  in  a  spirit  of  fun,  but  none  had  ven- 
tured over  ten  feet  from  the  ground. 

Slowly,  but  steadily,  he  was  rising  from  the  ground.  Now  he  was 
even  with  the  windows  on  the  first  floor,  now  he  was  above  them.  When 
he  reached  a  point  higher  than  any  boy  had  climbed  a  shock  of  interest 
ran  through  the  crowd.  They  could  see  how  painfully  he  clutched  the 
sharp  comers,  how  he  flattened  his  body  against  the  wall  to  keep 
from  falling  backward. 

When  his  hands  rose  above  the  sill  of  the  second  story  windows 
the  excitement  burst  like  a  flame  over  the  crowd.  They  cheered  and 
shouted,  and  danced  wildly  about.  Harold  heard  them  and  for  a 
dangerous  moment  looked  down.  Those  nearest  saw  his  face  g^ow  white 
and  b(xly  quiver  as  he  turned  quickly  back. 


rHE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  267 

It  was  Miss  Arnold  who  thought  of  singing:  "Bring  the  good  old 
bugle,  boys  we'll  sing  a  joyful  song/'  And  from  every  throat  rang 
out  the  chorus:    "Hurrah!  hurrah!    We'll  sing  the  jubilee." 

There  was  no  doubt  that  it  helped  him.  Slowly,  with  frequent 
stops  he  was  coming  nearer  to  the  edge  of  the  roof.  Here  the  most 
dangerous  part  of  the  attempt  confronted  him.  He  would  have  to 
support  himself  with  one  hand,  while  he  reached  up  and  out  to  the 
tiled  eaves-spout,  which  projected  over  his  head.  Once  he  attempted 
it,  hesitatingly,  then  grasped  the  bricks  again  with  both  hands.  They 
could  not  see  his  face — he  dared  not  look  down — but  they  knew  he 
was  tr3ring  to  nerve  himself  for  another  trial. 

"Cheer,  cheer !"  cried  Miss  Arnold,  and  a-  ringing  shout  went  up. 
boldly  Harold  reached  out  and  grasped  the  tile.  The  next  instant 
he  was  swinging  above  them.  Then  he  wriggled  his  body  over  into  the 
rain  gutter. 

With  the  aid  of  the  rope  the  descent  from  the  roof  was  compara- 
tively easy.  First  Mr.  Shafer  lowered  the  frightened  girls  over  the 
edge,  then  Harold  followed,  almost  in  a  stupor  from  exhaustion.  Lastly 
the  principal  himself  came  down,  hand  over  hand. 

In  the  joy  and  excitement  that  followed  the  fire  was  forgotten., 
As  Harold  looked  around  it  struck  him  that  everyone  was  laughing 
and  crying  at  the  same  time.  So  many  people  wanted  to  shake  hands 
that  they  joggled  him  all  about. 

Best  of  all  came  Peter  Mocket.  his  hands  black  from  the  bench, 
and  his  face  in  black  streaks  from  wiping  his  eyes. 

"I  never  seen  a  braver  thing  on  salt  water,  lad,"  he  roared  in  his 
seaman's  voice  and  gave  Harold's  fingers  a  mighty  squeeze. 

Then  came  to  Harold,  what  he  had  not  thought  of  before,  that  he 
had  conquered,  and  would  never  again  be  the  coward  of  the  school. 


CONCERT  RECITATION. 

Who  likes  the  rain  ? 
"L"  said  the  duck,  "I  call  it  fun. 
For  I  have  my  little  rubbers  on; 
They  make  a  cunning  three-toed  track 
In  the  soft,  cool  mud;  quack!  quack?" 

"I  hope  'twill  pour,  I  hope  'twill  pour," 
Crosdced  the.  tree-toad  from  his  gray  bark  door ; 

"For  with  a  broad  leaf  for  a  roof 
I'm  perfectly  weatherproof." 

Sang  the  brook,  "I  laugh  at  every  drop, 

And  wish  it  would  never  need  to  stop 

Until  a  broad  river  I  grow  to  be, 

And  could  find  my  way  out  to  the  sea."  — Selected. 


MARJORIE  AND  MAJOR. 

Now  Marjorie  is  trim  and  sweet. 
And  also  very,  very  neat ; 
Major,  her  dc^gie  wee — well,  he 
Is  not  as  neat  as  he  might  be. 
For  he  is  running  every  day 
About  the  dusty  street  at  play. 
So  Marjorie  an  apron  keeps 
For  doggie  Major  when  he  sleeps; 
And  when  he  wants  to  take  a  nap. 
Curled  snugly  up  in  Marjorie's  lap. 
He  shakes  himself,  and  rubs  his  nose, 
And  off  for  his  "sleeping-apron"  goest 
Now  don't  you  think  some  day  he'll  be 
Almost  as  neat  as  Majorie? 

— Isla  May  Mnllins. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  269 

DONALD'S  VACATION. 

Jette  Margaret  Phelps. 

"Donald !  Donald !  Donald  !*'  Mrs.  Turner  stood  in  the  hall  a  mo- 
ment, and  then,  with  a  queer  little  smile  on  her  face,  turned  and  went 
out  on  the  side  veranda.  A  white-bearded,  jolly-faced  old  man  looked 
up  expectantly  as  she  came  out.  They  talked  a  few  minutes  in  low 
tones. 

"I  expect  you're  right,"  the  old  man  said.  "He  probably  needs  the 
lesson."  The  smile  gone  from  his  face,  he  took  up  the  lines  and  drove 
the  fat  white  horse  out  of  the  vard. 

Mrs.  Turner  went  back  to  her  baking. 

Up-stairs  in  his  bedroom  Donald  was  making  a  kite.  It  was  the 
first  day  of  the  Easter  vacation,  and  he  intended  to  have  it  ready  should 
he  want  to  fly  it.  He  had  just  finished  the  frame  when  he  heard  his 
mother's  first  call. 

"She  just  wants  me  to  bring  in  an  armful  of  wood,"  he  said  to 
himself.  "Sarah  can  do  it  just  as  well's  not.  "'Sides,  I've  got  to  keep 
at  it  if  I  ever  get  it  done.  Shouldn't  wonder  if  the  wind'd  come  up 
so's  we  fellows  can  fly'em  this  afternoon,"  and  he  spread  out  the  stiff 
paper  and  prepared  to  cut  it  out. 

Donald  had  got  into  a  bad  habit  of  not  starting  as  soon  as  he  was 
told  to  do  a  thing,  and  sometimes  of  not  answering  when  called,  but 
he  was  not  disturbed  again. 

An  hour  later  he  went  down-stairs  after  a  drink  of  water. 

"I  am  sorry  you  didn't  hear  me  call,  Donald,"  said  his  mother. 
"Grandpa  was  here,  and  wanted  you  to  go  out  to  Uncle  Charlie's  with 
him  to  stay  the  rest  of  the  week.  Uncle  Charlie  tapped  his  sugar-bush 
Saturday,  and  he  thought  you  would  enjoy  spending  your  whole  vaca- 
tion out  on  the  farm." 

"O  mamma,  why  didn't  you  call — "  and  then  he  stopped.  He  re- 
membered. She  had  called.  "I  didn't  s'pose  you  wanted  anything 
much r  he  wailed.    "Oh,  oh,  oh!" 

Tht  night  Mamma  Turner  had  a  long  talk  with  him,  but  never- 
theless it  was  a  very  sorry-faced  little  boy  who  got  up  Tuesday  morning. 

Wednesday  morning  Mamma  Turner  told  him  he  must  not  let  his 
mistake  spoil  his  whole  week's  vacation,  and  finally  he  went  off  up- 
stairs to  finish  his  kite.  He  had  worked  half  an  hour,  perhaps,  when 
he  heard  his  mother  in  the  hall  below. 

"Donald !"  she  cried. 

Donald  waited  no  second  call.  His  lesson  had  been  bitter,  and  now 
he  started  at  once. 

'What  is  it,  mamma?"  he  asked,  from  over  the  banisters. 

'Grandpa  is  here,"  said  Mamma  Turner.    "He  had  to  come  in  for 
new  buckets,  and  he  would  like  to  know  if  you  care — "  but  Donald 


270  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

waited  no  longer.     He  was  down-stairs  and  out  on  the  porch  in  a 
twinkling. 

**Here,  young  man,  get  your  rubber  boots  and  your  old  clothes." 
said  grandpa,  laughing.  "We  want  a  hired  man  about  your  size  to 
help  in  the  sugar-bush  that  is  if  his  hearing  is  good,"  he  added,  his 
eyes  twinkling;  and  mamma  assured  him  that  Donald's  had  improved 
since  Monday. 


WHAT  ARE  THE  DANDELIONS. 

• 

"Mamma,  what  are  the  dandelions?"  asked  little  Susy,  as  she 
saw  them  for  the  first  time  in  her  life." 

"They  are  flowers,  Susy." 

"I  know  that,  mamma ;  but  tbey  are  something  more  than — ^than — " 
but  Susy  could  think  of  no  other  flower  which  was  only  a  flower  to  her. 
So  she  asked  another  question. 

"Do  their  roots  go  down,  down,  very  deep,  mamma?" 

"Deeper  than  the  roots  of  most  small  flowers;  but  why  do  you 
ask  that,  Susy  ?" 

"Oh.  I  thought  they  must  go  down  to  the  gold,  and  draw  it  up  into 
the  sunshine  that  would  make  the  gold  happy,  and  that  is  the  reason 
the  dandelions  laugh." 

Susy  walked  on  without  speaking  again  until  she  and  her  mother 
reached  one  of  the  pleasant  parlors  on  Beacon  Street,  which  overlooks 
the  Commons,  and  then  she  clasped  her  hands,  and  cried,  "I  see  it 
now;  I  see  it  now!  Mamma,  why  didn't  you  tell  me  it  was  God's 
spatter-work  ?" 

"I  did  not  think  of  that." 

"What  did  you  think?" 

"Nothing  so  beautiful  as  you  thought,  my  child,  but  I  will  tell 
you.  I  thought  of  the  beautiful  myth  of  Freya,  in  whom  the  Goths 
believed.  They  tell  that  she  was  forsaken  by  her  husband,  and  in  her 
grief  wandered  all  over  the  earth  shedding  golden  tears." 

"And  the  dandelions  grew  up  where  the  golden  tears  fell,  didn't 
they,  mamma  ?" 

"Perhaps  they  did;  for  the  Goths  tell  that  before  her  there  was 
winter,  but  as  soon  as  she  passed,  flowers  sprang  up,  until  the  whole 
earth  blossomed." — Kindergarten  Stories. 


MAKING    UP. 


The  Baby's  Page 

TWIN  GIRLS  are  Dables  Bell  and  Nell.  As  mev 
played  fhev  pushed  and  fell  Hurt  mem  bom 
and  made  mem  cry.  Bell  said,  "It  was  you,  not  I." 
Nell  said,  "No,  Bell,  It  was  you!"  Ttien  they  bom  cried, 
"Boo-hoo-hoo!"  Poor  dears,  their  tears  fell  fast.  llSe 
aprli  rain;  but  ime  May  sunshine,  smiles  cured  all  their 
pain.  At  first  fhev  laid  and  cried  and  cried,  and  then, 
flot  up  and  t^issed  and  made  all  up  again.  That  Is  how 
we  all  should  do,  vou  with  me  and  I  with  vou,  love  and 
Hiss  not  trv  fo  drive-  In  the  vear  months  Mr/  counts 
nve.  rather  In  Heaven,  line  babies  Bell  and  Nell,  when 
txibles  fall  and  hurt,  please  mate  them  well. 

— Lula  Greene  Richards. 


JUST  FOR  FUN. 

MAKING  USE  OF  HIS  LEARNING. 

A  small  boy  known  to  the  New  York 
Sun  was  introduced  by  his  teacher  to  the  ditto 
mark.  Its  labor-saving  possibilities  appealed 
to  him,  and  he  soon  found  occasion  to  turn 
his  knowledge  to  account. 

While  away  on  a  short  visit  he  wrote  to 
his  father.    The  letter  ran : 
Dear   father. 

I  hope  you  are  well. 

"     "     mother  is  " 

"     "     sister     "  " 

"     "     Dick      "  " 

"  wish  mother  was  here. 

"     "  grandmother  was  here. 

"     "  you  would  send  me  some  mon- 
ey.    Your  aff.  son,  Tom. 

A  small  boy  at  the  dinner  table  made  the  following  request: 
"Please  papa,  let  me  ask  the  blessing  to-day,"  As  permission  was  given 
him,  he  very  reverently  returned  thanks  as  follows:  "Dear  Lord,  we 
thank  Thee  for  the  meat,  we  thank  Thee  for  the  'tatoes  [a  moment's 
thoughtful  pause] "  we  thank  Thee  for  the  whole  business.    Amen. 

Little  Girl:  I  want  a  cake  of  soap. 
Chemist;  Have  it  scented? 

Little  girl:  No,  I  won't  have  it  scented,  I'll  take  it  with  me;  we 
only  live  around  the  corner. — Scraps. 

"Spell  ferment  and  give  its  definition,"  requested  the  teacher. 

"F-e-r-m-e-n-t,  to  work,"  responded  a  diminutive  maiden. 

"Now  place  it  in  a  sentence,  so  that  I  may  be  sure  you  under-stand 
its  meaning,"  said  the  teacher. 

"In  the  summer,  I  would  rather  play  out-of-doors  than  ferment  in 
the  schoolhouse,"  returned  the  small  scholar. 

Doctor:  Now,  my  boy,  show  me  your  tongue.  That's  not  enough. 
Put  it  right  out. 

Small  Boy:  I  can't — 'cos  it's  fastened  at  the  back! — Punch. 

"Willie,"  said  the  teacher,-  "form  a  sentence  in  which  you  use 
the  first  person." 

"Adam  lived  in  the  Garden  of  Eden,"  replied  Willie,  promptly. — 
Exchange. 

"What  are  pauses?"  the  teacher  asked  the  second  class  in  grammar. 
"Things  that  grow  on  cats  and  dogs."  answered  the  smallest  girl, 

—The  King's  Own. 


OFFICERS'  DEPARTMENT 


RECEPTION. 

An  informal  reception  will  be  held  for  Primary  Officers  on  Satur- 
day, April  5th,  1913,  from  four  to  six  p.  m.  in  the  Bishop's  Building, 
Said  Lake  City,  Utah. 

All  Primary  Officers,  visitors  and  local,  and  interested  friends  are 
cordially  invited. 

The  object  of  the  reception  is  to  give  an  opportunity  for  getting 
better  acquainted,  to  discuss  personally  the  topics  of  interest  to  the 
work  and  to  inspect  the  books  and  other  supplies  recommended  for 
the  use  of  Primary  Officers. 


THE  JUNE  CONVENTION. 

The  date  for  this  year  will  be  the  sixth,  seventh  and  eighth  of  June. 

A  very  interesting  program  is  being  prepared  and  it  is  the  hope 
of  the  General  Board  that  the  success  of  previous  years  will  be  repeated 
and  increased.  The  attendance  of  officers  last  year  was  very  encourag- 
ing, but  it  can  be  improved  in  1913.  Elsewhere  in  this  issue  will  be 
found  the  words  and  music  of  a  song  composed  for  the  June  conven- 
tion, the  words  were  written  by  Miss  Nora  Kotter,  one  of  the  blind 
pufxls  in  the  State  School  for  the  Deaf  and  Blind,  Miss  Kotter  is  a 
talented  young  lady  and  the  General  Board  of  Primary  Associations 
appreciate  her  kindness  and  her  willingness  to  contribute  to  the  pleasure 
and  success  of  the  Primary  cause.  The  music  has  been  set  to  the  words 
by  our  gifted  brother  Joseph  Ballantyne  and  for  this  and  other  favors 
received  our  grateful  thanks  are  extended.  All  the  Primary  Officers 
are  requested  to  learn  this  song  and  be  ready  to  sing  it  at  the  big  con- 
vention in  June. 

THE  SOCIAL  FOR  THE  JUNE  CONVENTION. 

Arrangements  are  being  made  to  have  an  old-fashioned  costume 
party  on  Saturday  night,  June  7th  in  the  Deseret  Gymnasium.  This 
opportunity  is  taken  to  invite  all  who  expect  to  attend  the  convention 
to  make  preparati6ns  and  come  with  your  own  or  a  borrowed  costume, 
of  out  of  date  style,  to  wear  and  help  to  rnake  a  success  of  the  entertian- 
ment. 


274  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


RECORD  CARDS. 

The  Record  Cards  issued  during  the  year  1912 
were  used  as  a  beginning  to  a  more  thorough  system  of 
reports  than  has  hitherto  heen  in  vogue  in  the  Primary 
A.ssociations .   We  hope,  by  calling  for  a  monthly 
report,  to  facilita'v.e  the  work  of  record  keeping  in 
the  local  associations,  and  to  encourage"  promptness 
and  accuracy  among  secretaries.   In  keeping  the 
statistical  records  of  the  organization  up  to  date, 
every  secretary  will  be  enabled  to  sense  the  responsi- 
bility of  her  position  as  historian  of  the  Primary 
Association,  and  Stake  Boards  as  well  as  the  General 
Board,  will  bb  promptly  informed  regarding  any  change 
in  the  officers*  corps. 

In  sending  out  the  new  monthly  report  blanks  for 
Stake  and  Local  Boards,  we  urge  upon  all  secretaries 
unfailing  promptness,  as,  owing  to  an  unavoidable 
delay  in  the  printing  of  these  forme,  reports  for  the 
months  of  January  and  February,  as  well  as  March,  will 
have  to  be  compiled. 

Monthly  reports  from  stakes  and  wards  will  be 
the  order  for  the  year  1913,  and  we  are  confident  that 
every  stake  will  realize  the  benefit  of  the  new 
system.   Local  Presidents,  especially,  should  attend 
personally  to  this  matter,  and  where  a  secretary  is 
negligent,  it  may  be  advisable  to  request  from  the 
Bishop  her  release. 

In  reporting  the  number  of  visits  made  to  the 
children,  telephone  calls  may  be  counted  as  visits. 
An  unsought,  accidental  meeting  of  a  boy  or  fi;irl, 
however,  is  but  a  reminder. 

Anybody  can  be  a  trailer,  but  it  takes  superior 
intelligence  and  indefatigable  zeal  to  be  a  leader. 
Read  the. tabulated  form  on  page  162,  March  issue  of 
the  Children's  Friend,  and  decide  your  position  in 
the  next  compilation. 

Every  STAKE  SECRETARY,  upon  receipt  ^f  report 
blanks,  is  requested  to  send  to  the  Secretary  of  the 
General  Board  at  once,  a  statement  of  the  number  of 
Local  and  Stake  forms  received.   This  is  important. 

GEMERAL  BOARD  PRIMARY  ASSOCIATIONS. 

Frances  Thommasen,  Secretary. 


Words  by  Nora  Cotter. 
mtodsrato. 


OFFICERS'  SONG. 

Music  by  Joseph  Ballantyne. 


1. 
2. 
3. 


We    are   a  band  of  workers  troe,  We've  come  from  far  and  near;  In 
Yes,  children  small  we  all  will  be     Up-on    this  fes-tal  day;      We'll 
Then  when  we  to  our  homes  return    A    goodly  store  weUl  have,  Of 


^ta^ 


this  con-ven-tion    ev  -  'ry  year,  We    meet  with  love  and  cheer.  With 
march  and  dance  and  join  in  drills, With  hearts  most  light  and  gay,  We'll 
precious  truths,  with  songs  and  games,To  give   to  those  we    love.  Yes 


joyous  glee    we        all  will  sing  The  songs  of  children  small;  We'll 
en-ter    in    their  games  with  vim — Their  stories  we  will  tell ;     And 
joyons    workers     all    are    we;  Our  hearts  are  light  and  gay.  We 


Ritard^ 

make  the  air  with    gladness  ring,  And    childhood  days  re   -  call, 

say  the  lit  •   tie    nursery  rhymes  That  children  love  so  well, 

love  to  sing    as      chil  •  dren  sing.  And  play  as  chil  -  dren  play. 


LESSON  DEPARTMENT 


Subject  for  tbe  /Dontb:   Self-ControU 

LESSON  TWENTY-ONE. 

The  Lesson  Hour. 

SUGGESTIONS    FOR    ALL  THE   TEACHERS. 

The  response  of  the  Primary  workers  to  the  suggestions  of  The 
General  Board  is  very  much  appreciated  and  indicates  an  earnest  desire 
to  do  all  that  is  required  for  the  onward  movement  of  the  work.  We 
desire  to  thank  those  who  have  taken  the  extra  time  to  report  the  devel- 
opment of  the  new  lesson  plans.  In  considering  the  results  reported 
there  seems  to  be  a  necessity  for  a  few  more  suggestions.  The  book 
on  Character  by  Smiles  is  intended  for  the  officers  only,  who  will  find 
a  great  many  beautiful  thoughts  and  interesting  incidents  on  the 
subject  which  are  to  be  adapted  to  the  children  in  the  grades.  The 
memory  work  is  to  be  used  at  each  session  to  keep  very  clearly 
in  the  minds  of  the  children  the  spiritual  thought  of  the  month.  The 
work  for  each  hour  should  be  carefully  planned  so  that  the  children 
will  get  the  thought  that  the  lesson  aims  to  teach.  Remember  that  it 
is  our  privilege  to  teach  practical  religion,  truth,  honor,  courtesy,  etc. 
and  the  lesson  is  the  means  to  be  used. 

The  opening  and  closing  exercises  should  be  so  arranged  that  the 
children  will  be  impressed  with  their  sacredness  and  form  habits  of 
attention  and  reverence  when  sacred  songs  and  prayers  are  observed. 
This  sacred  part  of  the  program  should  be  in  perfect  order,  but  time 
should  not  be  wasted,  begin  promptly  so  that  every  minute  possible 
be  given  to  each  division  of  the  work. 

Do  not  announce  the  coming  programs  to  the  children,  except 
for  special  occasions,  let  each  session  be  a  little  of  a  surprise.  The 
children  will  enjoy  the  variety. 

FIRST  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text.     Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  6.     F>iblc :    Luke  l.S  :1 1-32. 
Other  Materials. 
Memory  Gem. 

Games.  ' 

Songs.  _  '■., 

Pictures. 
Rest  Exercises. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  277 

Aim. 

The  Lord  blesses  and  helps  His  children  when  they  try  to  control 
their  faults. 

Illustration. 

"The  Real  Culprit."  The  Children's  Friend,  Vol.  10,  page  89; 
or  "A  Birthday  Breeze."    The  Children's  Friend,  Vol.  10,  page  72. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teachers.  New  teachers  will  find  many  help- 
ful suggestions  for  a  program  for  the  lesson  period  in  any  number  of 
\^ol.  11,  of  The  Children's  Friend — you  will  also  find  many  rest 
exercises  and  songs  suggested  which  you  can  use  with  profit  and  which 
the  little  ones  will  enjoy. 

Let  your  review  be  brief  in  this  grade  but  encourage  each  child 
to  recite  the  memory  gems  which  have  been  learned. 

It  is  not  intended  that  you  will  give  the  material  given  in  the 
chapter  on  "Self-control"  to  the  children  but  its  careful  study  will  give 
you  many  helpful  suggestions  for  the  development  of  this  subject. 

The  illustrations  used  to  make  plain  the  spiritual  truth  which  you 
%^sh  to  teach  should  center  in  the  home  for  the  child's  experiences  does 
not  reach  much  farther. 

Let  the  children  tell  of  work  they  have  enjoyed  doing  during  the 
month.  But  we  don't  have  to  work  always,  what  else  do  we  like  to 
do?  Here  give  an  experience,  or  story  which  will  lead  up  to  the  place 
where  you  will  give  the  new  memory  gem.  This  may  be  followed  with 
the  thought  in  the  poem,  stories,  etc. 

Be  sure  to  make  the  lesson  simple  and  concrete  keeping  always 
in  mind  the  spiritual  truth  you  are  aiming  to  teach. 
Poem. 

FIVE  YEARS  OLD. 

I  know  a  curly,  fair  haired  boy, 

His  age  is  just  five  years; 
You'd  s'pose  that  such  a  little  chap 

Would  cry  a  lot  of  tears. 

If  he  fell  down  and  bumped  his  knee ; 

But,  no  sir,  not  a  bit! 
He  chokes  them  back,  and  is  so  brave, 

You  wouldn't  dream  he's  hit. 

Now,  if  you  think  he's  rough  and  coarse, 

Mistaken  you  will  be; 
For  when  he  goes  in  front  of  one 

He  always  says,  "Scuse  me!" 

Of  this  one  thing  I  am  very  sure. 
He's  cut  out  on  the  plan 
That  cannot  fail,  when  he  grows  up, 
To  make  a  gentleman. 

— Selected. 


278  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Memory  Gent. 

If  there's  a  cross  word  that  tries  to  be  said, 
Don't  let  it,  my  dear,  don't  let  it  1 
Just  speak  two  pleasant  ones,  quick  instead, 
And  that  will  make  you  forget  it. 

— Selected. 

SECOND  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text.  Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  6.  Bible:  Luke  4:1-13; 
Matthew  4:1-11. 

Other  Materials. 
Memory  Gem. 
Poems. 
Games. 
Songs. 
Pictures. 

Aim. 

The  Lord  blesses  and  helps  His  children  when  they  try  to  control 
their  faults. 

Illustration. 

"The  Broken  Vase."  The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  10,  page  250; 
or ,  "Grandma's  Disobedience,"  The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  10, 
page  17. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher,  Notice  how  a  review  of  the  points 
you  made  last  month  will  prepare  the  minds  of  the  children  for  the 
spiritual  truth  you  are  going  to  develop. 

You  will  find  it  helpful  to  plan  a  program  for  the  Lesson  Hour 
period.  The  one  given  for  the  First  Grade  in  any  number  of  Vol.  II, 
of  The  Children's  Friend,  is  suggestive,  as  it  gives  opportunity  for 
the  variety  which  is  so  much  needed  in  a  class  of  little  children.  In 
choosing  your  songs,  etc.,  have  them  relate  as  nearly  as  possible  to  the 
spiritual  truth  suggested  for  the  month. 

After  studying  the  chapter  on  "Self-control"  you  will  be  impressed 
with  the  importance  of  this  subject,  for  it  is  in  youth  that  habits  of 
control  are  formed.  There  are  a  number  of  phases  sug^sted  which 
can  be  nicely  adapted  to  the  children  in  this  grade.     Let  your  talk  be  a 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  279 

heart  to  heart  one.  Get  close  to  them  and  win  their  sympathy  and 
confidence  and  the  impressions  you  make  will  be  lasting. 

When  we  reach  the  point  in  the  review  where  the  children  appre- 
ciate the  fact  that  we  all  have  a  share  of  work  to  do,  it  might  be  well 
to  ask  them  to  name  their  favorite  work.  Perhaps  your  sister  likes  to 
wash  the  dishes  better  than  to  wipe  them,  too.  What  should  you  do 
then?    Use  other  illustrations  of  how  we  should  overcome  selfishness. 

If  John  doesn't  like  to  bring  in  the  coal  how  does  it  make  him  act 
sometimes?  Who  knows  a  good  remedy  for  that  fault?  Let  these 
suggest  other  phases  of  control.  Give  the  memory  gem  where  it  best  fits 
in  with  your  talk  and  impress  the  thought  that  through  eflFort  and  the 
help  of  Our  Heavenly  Father  we  can  grow  better.  Tell  "The 
Temptation  of  Jesus"  to  show  what  great  self-control  He  had  and  how 
He  was  helped  and  blessed. 

Memory  Gem. 

"Not  the  things  that  I  like  to  do, 
But  the  things  that  are  right  to  do ; 
Not  everything  that  I  want  to  do, 
But  whatever  I  ought  to  do." 


Poem, 


"We  are  building  every  day, 
In  a  good  or  evil  way ; 
And  the  structure,  as  it  grows, 
Will  our  inmost  self  disclose. 

Build  it  well,  whatever  you  do ; 
Build  it  straight,  and  strong,  and  true ; 
Build  it  clean,  and  high,  and  broad, 
Build  it  for  the  eye  of  God." 


THIRD  GRADE. 

# 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text.     Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  6.      Bible:      Daniel  1:21; 
Doc.  and  Gov.  sec.  89.   . 
Other  Materials, 
Memory  Gem. 
Poem. 
Songs. 
Pictures. 

Aim. 

The  Lord  blesses  and  helps  His  children  when  they  try  to  control 

their  faults. 


280  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Illustration. 

"The  Will  Muscle."    The  Children's  Friend^  vol.  10,  page  95. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  Keep  in  mind  that  the  review  does 
these  things :  It  is  your  test  of  how  well  your  last  work  has  been  done ; 
it  gives  an  opportunity  to  correct  wrong  impressions;  it  enforces  the 
correct  ones  and  prepares  the  minds  of  the  children  for  the  new  lesson. 

In  preparing  your  work  plan  your  review  just  as  carefully  as  you 
do  your  lesson  and  you  will  be  surprised  and  pleased  with  the  result. 

The  chapter  on  "Self-control"  will  open  up  a  field  of  thought  which 
you  will  be  able  to  adapt  very  nicely  to  the  capacity  of  your  class. 

Help  the  children  to  feel  strongly,  through  this  lesson  and  those 
that  follow  this  month,  the  great  need  of  controlling  thought,  speech 
and  acts  while  young,  that  purity  of  heart  and  mind  may  become  habits 
and  good  character  built  up. 

The  thoughts  suggested  in  the  memory  gem  may  form  a  good  basis 
for  the  introduction  of  the  new  lesson.  Let  the  children  hear  it  as  a 
whole.  It  is  always  better  for  the  teacher  to  have  it  memorized.  Dis- 
cuss it  with  the  class  and  have  them  appreciate  its  meaning.  The  poem 
will  enforce  one  phase  of  the  thought  it  contains. 

Lead  the  children  to  name  other  faults  we  should  try  to  control. 
Talk  about  how  we  can  overcome  them.  Who  will  help  us  if  we  try 
ourselves  ?  No  doubt,  some  one  will  suggest  the  appetite.  Then  comes 
the  splendid  opportunity  to  teach  the  "Word  of  Wisdom."  Tell  them 
what  the  Lord  has  said  to  us  on  this  subject.  Encourage  the  class  to 
make  special  effort  along  these  lines.  The  story  of  Daniel  will  teach 
the  same  truth. 

Memory  Gem. 

Cherish  what  is  good,  and  drive 

Evil  thoughts  and  feelings  far; 

For,  as  sure  as  you're  alive, 

You  will  show  for  what  you  are. 

— Alice  Cary. 
Poem. 

"A  homeless  Bad  Thought  went  a-searching  one  day 
For  a  spot  where  it  snugly  could  settle  and  stay ; 
It  hung  round  Fred's  door  for  three  hours  by  the  clock, 
But  never  found  courage  to  step  up  and  knock. 

"The  place  was  too  busy  and  crowded,  you  see ; 

There  was  really  no  spot  that  seemed  to  be  free: 

There  were  thoughts  of  his  home,  lessons,  books  to  be  read. 

And  no  time  to  be  idle  from  breakfast  to  bed. 

"  *I  might  push  my  way  in,'  said  the  Bad  Thought,  *but  then 
Every  corner  is  filled ;  Fd  be  turned  out  again. 
It's  no  use  to  hang  round ;  this  is  no  place  for  me !' 
And  it  went  off  as  downcast  as  downcast  could  be. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND  281 

"But  Jim's  door  stood  open,  not  far  down  the  road ; 
No  crowd  was  about  it,  no  bustle  it  showed ; 
The  hall  was  deserted,,  the  study  was  bare, 
And  Bad  Thought  stepped  in  with  a  satisfied  air. 


it  ( 


Ah,  here's  what  I  want,'  it  remarked  with  a  grin, 
I  can  settle  in  peace,  and  grow  into  a  sin. 
Jim's  life  is  so  idle,  no  good  thoughts  I  see. 
That's  just  the  right  home  for  an  inmate  like  me.' 

"So  it  stayed  and  it  grew  till  it  filled  the  whole  place. 
And  owned  Jim  in  the  bargain,  and  brought  him  disgrace. 
Poor  Jim !     Other  boys,  too,  should  keep  a  look-out, 
For  many  a  bad  thought  goes  searching  about." 

— Selected. 

FOURTH  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text.    Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  6.      Bible:    David  and  Saul. 

Other  Materials, 

Questions. 

Memory  Gem. 

Poem. 

Quotations. 
Aim. 

The  Lord  blesses  His  children  when  they  try  to  control  their  faults. 

Illustration. 

"Which  Did  You  Win?"  Thk  Children's  Friend,  vol.  10,  page 
103. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  Review  with  the  children  the  value 
of  work  well  done,  use  incidents  from  last  month's  lessons  to  illustrate 
your  point.  If  work  was  done  by  the  children  help  them  to  see  the 
results.  Tell  how  order  and  cleanliness  help  to  make  people  comfort- 
able and  happy.  Have  the  poem  recited  and  use  it  to  introduce  thought 
of  this  lesson.  Give  some  of  the  suggestions  about  self-control  as  ex- 
plained by  Smiles.  Use  the  memory  geni,  then  tell  how  David  was 
greater  than  a  king  in  having  strength  to  control  himself  and  show 
honor  and  respect  to  King  Saul  even  though  he  knew  the  king  to  be 
his  enemy.  For  story  of  David  use  the  account  "David  Spares  Saul's 
Life."  The  quotations  should  be  read,  questions  asked,  and  lesson 
completed  with  the  story,  "Which  Did  You  Win  ?" 

Questions.  How  are  we  helped  to  know  what  is  good  for  us  to 
eat?    Use  similar  questions  about  clothes,  when  to  go  to  bed,  how  to 


282  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

play,  work,  etc.,  in  all  of  them  emphasizing  the  love  of  parents  in  caring 
for  and  teaching  their  children  to  be  strong  and  wise. 

How  do  we  usually  know  when  we  have  eaten  too  much  candy  or 
food  that  is  too  rich? 

What  should  this  teach  us? 

What  happens  if  we  play  when  we  should  be  getting  our  lessons? 

Who  helps  us  to  gain  knowledge  in  school? 

When  we  are  young  we  have  parents  and  teachers  who  tell  us 
these  things  and  help  us  to  form  good  habits.  Why  is  it  necessary  for 
us  to  learn  the  lesson  of  self-control  ?  Help  the  children  to  understand 
the  meaning  of  the  term  "self-control."  Use  some  of  the  points  ex- 
plained by  Smiles. 

Bible  Incident.    David  Spares  Saul's  Life. 

I  Samuel  26. 

Saul  lay  fast  asleep.  The  ground  was  his  bed.  The  dark  blue 
sky  bending  over  him  was  his  tent.  Beside  him  lay  a  water  bottle  in 
which  was  water  for  him  to  drink.  In  the  ground  beyond  his  head  was 
his  spear.    His  spear  was  the  sign  that  at  this  place  the  king  lay  asleep. 

Not  far  from  Saul  lay  Abner,  who  was  captain  over  all  Saul's 
soldiers.  He  was  the  man  before  all  others  whose  work  it  was  to  guard 
Saul  and  keep  him  from  danger.    He,  too,  lay  fast  asleep. 

In  a  circle  around  Saul  and  Abner,  lay  three  thousand  sleeping 
soldiers.  In  a  circle  beyond  the  sleeping  soldiers  was  the  baggage. 
The  baggage  was  piled  up  like  a  wall.  Saul,  Abner  and  the  soldiers 
believed  that  no  one  would  dare  climb  over  this  wall  and  that  inside 
it  they  were  safe. 

Saul  and  his  men  were  hunting,  here,  there  and  everywhere  for 
David.  First,  Saul  was  told  that  David  was  in  one  place.  When  he 
reached  this  place,  David  was  not  there.  Next,  Saul  was  told  that 
David  was  in  another  place.  When  he  reached  that  place,  David  was 
not  there. 

It  seemed  to  Saul  that  no  one  was  his  friend  and  told  him  the  truth. 
He  cried,  "I  have  no  one  to  be  sorry  for  me  and  tell  me  truly  where 
David  is."  People  did  tell  Saul  truly  where  David  was  but  David  did 
not  let  Saul  find  him. 

Among  the  men  who  followed  David  instead  of  Saul  were  some 
whom  he  called  his  spies.  When  he  knew  which  way  Saul  was  coming 
he  went  by  some  other  way  to  a  new  hiding  place.  This  was  the  reason 
Saul  missed  David  and  never  found  him  where  he  went  to  look  for  him. 

As  Saul  and  his  soldiers  lay  fast  asleep,  two  men  climbed  over  the 
wall  made  of  baggage.  Then  they  moved  slowly  and  stepped  isoftly  be- 
tween the  rows  of  sleeping  soldiers.  They  made  their  way  to  the  place 
where  Saul  lay.    Not  a  soldier  heard  these  men,  not  even  Abner. 

One  of  the  two  men  who  stood  beside  Saul  was  David.  He  had 
•been  hiding  not  very  far  from  the  place  where  Saul  and  his  men  were. 
As  David  stood  beside  Saul,  he  knew  he  was  able  to  do  Saul  harm.    He 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  283 

had  it  within  his  power  to  kill  Saul.    Saul's  spear  seemed  waiting  to  help 
him  do  it. 

David  knew  that  if  he  kiUed  Saul  it  would  be  doing  what  Saul, 
wanted  to  do  to  him.  He  knew  that  if  he  killed  Saul,  many  of  his 
troubles  would  be  over.  His  friend  wanted  to  kill  Saul  for  him  and 
said,  "God  hath  delivered  up  thine  enemy  into  thy  hand  tfiis  day :  now 
therefore  let  me  smite  him,  I  pray  thee,  with  this  spear  to  the  earth  at 
one  stroke." 

"Destroy  him  not,"  answered  David.  "Jehovah  forbid  that  I 
should  put  forth  my  hand  against  the  one  whom  he  made  king:  but 
now  take,  I  pray  thee,  the  spear  that  is  at  his  head,  and  the  cruse  of 
water  and  let  us  go." 

Stepping  softly  and  slowly,  David  and  his  friend  passed  back  be- 
tween the  sleeping  soldiers.  Then  they  climbed  the  wall  of  baggage 
and  made  their  way  to  the  top  of  a  high  mountain.  From  the  top  of 
this  mountain  David  cried,  "And  now  see  where  the  king's  spear  is,  and 
the  cruse  of  water  that  was  at  his  head." 

Saul,  Abner,  and  all  the  soldiers  awoke.  They  heard  David's  voice 
and  what  he  said.  They  saw  that  the  king's  spear  and  cruse  of  water 
were  gone.  They  knew  that  David  must  have  been  within  their  camp. 
They  knew  he  might  have  killed  them. 

They  knew  that  David  had  done  good  to  them  that  hated  him. 
Even  Saul  g^ew  ashamed  of  himself  and  of  what  he  and  his  soldiers 
had  meant  to  do.  He  cried,  "Is  this  thy  voice,  my  son  David  ?  I  have 
sinned.  I  have  done  you  great  wrong.  Come  back ;  for  I  will  no  more 
do  thee  harm." — Selected. 

Memory  Gem, 

I  do  not  ask  for  any  crown. 

But  that  which  all  may  win; 
Nor  try  to  conquer  any  world. 

Except  the  one  within. 

Poem.    "My  Business." 

"It  is  everybody's  business, 
In  this  old  world  of  ours. 
To  root  up  all  the  weeds  he  finds. 
And  cultivate  the  flowers." 

It  is  everybody's  business. 

As  he  walks  earth's  weary  miles. 
To  keep  back  all  the  frowns  he  can, 

And  bring  out  all  the  smiles. 

It  is  everybody's  business, 
.  I'm  sure  you've  always  heard, 
To  hold  in  check  the  harsh  one  and 
To  speak  the  kindly  word. 


284  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

It  is  everybody's  business — 

It  is  our  old  world's  need — 
To  keep  the  hand  from  unkind  act, 

And  do  the  loving  deed. 

• 

And  since  'tis  everybody's  work 

To  be  thus  kind  and  true, 
I'm  sure  it  is  not  hard  to  see 

It  means  both  me  and  you. 

— Our  Children. 

Quotations.  Proverbs  15 :18 :  James  3 :17 ;  I  Peter  3 :10 ;  Matthew 
5:48. 

FIFTH  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the.  Lesson. 

Text.     Character  by  Smiles,  chapter  6. 

The  Bible :     Jacob  and  Esau. 

Other  Materials, 

Questions. 

Memory  Gem. 

Poem. 

Reading. 

Quotations. 

• 

Aim. 

The  Lord  blesses  His  children  when  they  try  to  control  their  faults. 
Illustration. 

A  Double  Lesson.    The  Children's  Friend,  VoL  10.  page  156. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher,  Review  the  last  month's  work  being 
careful  to  notice  any  special  efforts  made  by  members  of  the  class  to 
use  the  suggestions  given  for  improvement.  Some  of  the  material  used 
for  the  last  Lesson  Hour  may  be  reviewed  as  it  suggests'  the  thought 
of  Self-control. 

Have  the  reading  "Training  For  What?"  Then  relate  the  instance 
of  Jacob  and  Esau  when  Esau  sold  his  birthright  for  a  mess  of  pottage 
(Genesis  25 :27-34.)  because  he  was  hungry  and  could  nok  control  him- 
self. Explain  how  much  Esau  lost  because  he  lacked  self-control.  Use 
some  of  Smiles'  arguments  which  he  uses  about  the  principle  in  regard 
to  control  of  speech,  anger  etc. 

The  poem  illustrates  how  the  Great  Teacher  used  self-control  and 
by  His  actions  taught  us  the  value  of  it. 

Questions.     What  is  anger  ? 

How  do  you  feel  when  you  are  angry  ? 

Do  you  always  know  what  is  the  best  thing  to  do  when  angry? 

What  are  some  good  things  to  do  when  you  feel  angry?  Swal- 
low hard ;  count  ten ;  go  some  place  where  you  are  alone ;  best  of  all, 
prayer  for  strength  to  be  just  to  the  one  that  makes  you  angry. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  285 

^  What  does  this  mean :  "He  is  a  fool  who  cannot  be  angry ;  but  he 
is  a  wise  man  who  will  not." 

Memory  Gem. 

He  who  reigns  within  himself  is  mofe  than  a  king. — Milton. 

Reading,  Training  For  What? 

He  let  little  things  annoy  him.  He  gave  way  to  outbursts 
of  anger,  when  a  moment  or  two  of  firm  self-control  would  have 
carried  him  safely  past  the  crisis.  He  rather  prided  himself  upon  his 
"quick  temper,"  so  unruly,  so  easily  roused,  and  so  hard  soothed.  Then 
came  the  climax,  when  one  day  he  flew  into  a  passion,  and  almost  before 
he  realized  it,  he  had  committed  a  crime  which  by  a  narrow  margin 
escaped  being  murder. 

His  neighbor  was  a  quiet,  pleasant  young  fellow  whom  everybody 
liked  and  respected.  He  was  never  even  suspected  of  owning  the 
naturally  quick  temper  which  he  kept  as  sternly  under  control.  He 
made  it  a  point  to  be  master,  and  he  succeeded.  When  the  first  young 
man  went  to  prison  for  his  attempt  upon  the  life  of  another,  the  second 
accepted  a  position  of  trust,  of  honor,  of  large  responsibility  where 
his  self-control  and  calm  poise  of  spirit  amid  vexations  was  invaluable 
to  himself  and  his  employers. 

Neither  of  the  young  men  would  have  believed,  years  before,  that 
they  were  in  training  then  for  the  positions  each  carhe  to  occupy.  Yet 
so  it  was  in  truth ;  for  had  not  things  gone  before  which  fitted  the  one 
for  honor,  the  other  for  crime  and  disgrace,  the  results  would  not  have 
been  what  they  were. 

Juvenal  says :  "No  man  becomes  a  villain  all  at  once."  Equally 
true  is  it  that  no  man  becomes  a  saint  all  at  once:  Training  goes  before 
both ;  and  that  training  is  a  matter  of  individual  choice.  Your  temper, 
your  taste,  your  faults  and  your  virtues,  all  are  your  own,  to  train  as 
no  one  can  train  them  for  you.  For  what  are  you  training  then? — 
Cora  S.  Day,  in  "The  King's  Own." 

Poem.     "A  Prayer  for  Strength." 
When,  for  some  little  insult  given,  my  angry  passions  rise, 

rU  think,  how  Jesus  came  from  heaven,  and  bore  His  injuries. 
He  was  insulted  every  day,  though  all  His  words  were  kind ; 

But  nothing  men  could  do  or  say  disturbed  His  heavenly  mind. 

Not  all  the  wicked  scoffs  He  heard  against  the  truths  He  taught 
Excited  one  reviling  word,  or  one  revengeful  thought. 

And  when  upon  the  cross  He  bled,  with  all  His  foes  in  view, 
"Father,  forgive  their  sins."     He  said :  "they  know  not  what  they  do." 

Dear  Jesus,  may  I  learn  of  Thee  my  temper  to  amend ; 
And  speak  the  pardoning  word  for  me,  whenever  I  offend. 

— ^Jane  Taylor. 

Quotations.     Psalms  37 :8 ;  James  1 :19 ;  James  3  :2 ;  Matthew  5  :48. 


286  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

LESSON  TWENTY-TWO. 

« 

The  Busy   Hour. 

SUMMER  PICNIC. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  The  work  for  this  period  and  the 
busy  hour  for  the  next  month  will  be  the  preparation  for  a  Primary 
picnic.  The  lesson  of  self-control  may  be  taught  by  helping  the  children 
to  see  the  value  of  making  preparations  for  a  happy  time  that  is  to 
happen  some  time,  to  learn  to  work  and  wait,  ta  be  patient  in  learning 
how  to  do  things  well.  If  there  be  any  difficulties  in  following  out  the 
suggestions  given  encourage  the  cultivation  of  the  virtue  so  that  each 
one  will  try  to  control  themselves  and  the  circumstances  in  each  case 
that  the  picnic  may  be  successful. 

Next  month  instructions  will  be  given  for  the  preparation  of  the 
refreshments,  the  work  for  this  period  will  be  the  getting  ready  of 
materials  which  will  help  to  serve  the  refreshments  in  the  cleanest  and 
daintiest  way  possible.  Be  careful  to  plan  the  work  so  that  there  will 
be  enough  to  do  in  the  time  allowed  and  yet  be  completed.  The  chil- 
dren should  not  be  permitted  to  stay  overtime.  The  materials  needed 
will  be  waxed  or  tissue  paper  and  toothpicks  for  wrapping  boiled  eggs, 
sandwiches,  cakes,  etc.  Paper  napkins  to  be  folded.  Heavy  paper  and 
cardboard  for  boxes  to  hold  the  supplies.  The  patterns  given  in  the 
February  number  of  The  Children's  Friend  will  do  very  well  for  the 
boxes. 

The  First  and  Second  Grades  could  fold  the  napkins  for  every- 
body. The  value  of  the  lesson  will  \)e  in  having  very  clean  hands  and 
folding  a  simple  fold  neatly  and  accurately. 

The  Third  Grade  may  be  taught  how  to  wrap  cleanly  and  neatly. 
Use  paper  as  suggested  with  pieces  of  wood  of  suitable  size  instead  of 
sandwiches,  cake,  etc.  Show  how  the  paper  may  be  fastened  with  a 
toothpick. 

The  Fourth  and  Fifth  Grades  should  make  the  boxes.  The  heavy 
manila  paper  used  in  stores  will  be  very  satisfactory  for  the  occasion. 
The  necessity  of  keeping  each  kind  of  food  by  itself  should  be  explained. 
Emphasize  the  need  of  absolute  cleanliness.  Larger  boxes  may  be 
made  of  cardboard  to  hold  a  number  of  the  paper  boxes.  With  this 
plan  the  luncheon  may  be  conveyed  to  the  place  appointed,  served,  and 
boxes,  napkins,  etc.,  burned  or  destroyed,  so  that  there  are  no  burdens 
for  tired  children  to  carry  home. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.        ,  287 

LESSON  TWENTY-THREE. 

The  Story   Hour. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  This  will  be  a  good  opportunity  to 
discuss  the  value  of  self-control,  for  many  find  it  difficult  to  control 
themselves  when  reading  an  interesting  story,  the  desire  is  so  strong  to 
finish  it,  and  unless  there  is  self-control,  duties  will  be  overlooked  and 
perhaps  opportunities  for  showing  love  and  kindness  will  be  missed. 
Whichever  story  is  chosen  for  this  hour  be  sure  to  have  one  that  im- 
presses the  power  of  self-control.  It  will  be  better  for  the  children  if 
the  story  tells  the  lesson.  If  you  find  it  advisable  to  discuss  the  prin- 
ciple do  it  before  the  story  and  not  after.  The  story-hour  should  be 
very  interesting  but  must  not  come  more  than  once  a  month. 

Books  suggested  will  be  found  listed  on  back  pages  of  this  mag- 
azine. 

FIRST  GRADE. 

Stories.    The  Three  Bears,  in  Household  Stories,  page  26;  or: 

Picture  Books  which  tell  the  story  desired,  such  as  Goldilocks  or 
Little  Red  Riding  Hood  in  the  Tomb  Thumb  Picture  Books ;  or : 

Donald's  Vacation  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's  Friend. 

Note.  The  Three  Bears  should  be  adapted  to  the  thought  of  the 
month,  for  instance:  The  little  girl  should- have  remembered  that  if 
she  ran  away  into  the  woods  she  would  make  her  mother  unhappy. 
When  she  came  to  the  door  of  the  little  house  it  would  be  polite  to 
knock  before  entering  and  if  nobody  answered  to  go  home  and  so  forth. 

SECOND  GRADE. 

Stories.  The  Little  Rooster,  in  Boston  Collection  of  Kindergarten 
Stories,  page  25;  or: 

The  Oriole's  Nest,  in  The  Story  Hour,  page  29 ;  or : 

How  They  Kept  Still,  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's  Friend. 

THIRD  GRADE. 

Stories.  A  True  Story  About  A  Girl  and  My  Kingdom,  in  Stories 
To  Tell  To  Children,  page  82 ;  or : 

Dickey  Smiley's  Birthday,  in  The  Story  Hour,  page  38 ;  or : 
The  Lost  Hour,  in  this  issue  of  The  Children.s  Friend. 

FOURTH  GRADE. 

Stories.     The  Man  Without  A  Country;  or: 

Eight  Cousins  by  Louise  M.  Alcott ;  or : 

The  Great  Circus  Parade,  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's  Friki^d. 


288  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

FIFTH  GRADE. 

Stories.    Rick  Dale;  or: 
Helen  Over  The  Wall;  or: 
The  Boy  Scouts  of  Woodcraft  Camp;  or: 

The  Hero  of  the  Tenements,  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's 
Friend. 

LESSON  TWENTY-FOUR. 

Thje  Social  Hour. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teachers,  As  the  weather  grows  warmer 
much  of  this  period  may  be  enjoyed  out-doors.  The  Children  may  be 
more  easily  controlled  if  kept  in  groups.  Try  to  have  plenty  of  direc- 
tors. Invite  the  parents,  fathers  and  mothers,  to  join  with  you  and 
assist  in  making  this  an  especially  happy  hour. 

Preliminary  Music. 

Prayer. 

Singing, 

Story. 

Singing  Game.  "Kull  Danzen."  Popular  Folk  Dances,  page  13. 

Song  Plays.  "The  Jolly  Miller,"  "The  Social  Game"  both  in  Old 
and  New  Singing  Games. 

Games.  "Going  to  Jerusalem."  in  Games  for  the  Playground,  page 
98,  or  Games  for  all  Occasions,  page  39. 

"Still  Pond;  No  More  Moving!"  in  Games  for  the  Playground, 
page  189. 

"Steps"  in  Games  for  the  Playground,  page  188. 

Memory  Gems. 

Folk  Dance.      "Hungarian  Folk  Dance." 

Song. 

Benediction. 


Tact  is  but  another  name  for  good  sense,  which  is  often  called 
gumption.  Whether  sense  is  a  born  quality  or  an  acquired  one  is  aside 
from  the  point  just  now.  Certain  it  is  that  there  are  many  teachers 
who  have  such  tactful  ways  of  doing  things  that  we  naturally  think  this 
quality  innate.  They  never  take  hold  of  the  hot  end  of  the  poker,  and, 
besides,  they  take  hold  of  the  cold  end  so  unaffectedly  that  they  impress 
you  as  thinking  that  there  is  no  hot  end  at  all.  They  say  the  rig^t 
things,  too,  in  just  the  right  way,  as  if  there  were  no  other  way.  They 
come  when  it  is  time  to  come,  and  go  when  it  is  time  to  go.  They  put 
everybody  at  ease,  children  and  gjown-ups  alike. — Selected. 


THE  DOG  HAD  PUT  HIS  NOSE  TO  THE  GROUND. 


\ 


.  Vol.  12  JUNE,  1913.  No.  6. 


LliTLE  PRINCESS  WISLA. 

Chapter  VI. — Rex. 
By  Sophie  Swett, 

"Stumpy!    Stumpy!    Stumpy!" 

Phi  was  calling  and  whistling  and  so  were  half  the  other  Polly- 
whoppet  boys  and  ^irls ;  so  were  Papa  Piper  and  Grandpapa  Piper,  who 
had  come  home  from  journeys  in  different  directions  in  search  of  Peggy 
— come  home  without  finding  the  least  sign  of  what  had  become  of  the 
child. 

For  it  was  discovered  that  Peggy's  dog  had  disappeared,  and  people 
were  looking  in  one  another's  faces,  and  wondering  whether  it  were 
possible  that  Stumpy  could  have  gone  away  in  search  of  Peggy ! 

"He  is  just  that  kind  of  a  dog,"  Phi  had  said  to  his  great  friend 
Sidney  Brooks. 

And  Sidney  had  answered,  in  a  voice  that  was  almost  solemn  it 
was  so  earnest,  "I  believe  if  we  could  find  Stumpy  we  should  find 
Peggy!" 

But  poor  Phi,  whose  round  freckled  face  had  grown  thin  and  pale 
in  the  two  weeks  since  Peggy  was  lost,  shook  his  head  at  that. 

Phi  had  that  red  hair-ribbon,  found  in  the  river,  in  his  pocket.  It 
was  a  worn  and  frayed  thing,  now,  and  a  boy's  hot  tears  had  stained  it. 
But  Phi  had  never  shown  it  to  anyone. 

The  ribbon  and  the  over-turned  boat  had  seemed  from  the  first  to 
Phi  proof  that  Peggy  had  been  drowned. 

He  had  thought  it  just  as  well  that  his  mother  should  not  know 
about  that  ribbon. 

Not  even  Sid  or  Betty  Brooks  knew  that  he  had  found  it. 

"I  wish  we  hadn't  given  Rex  away.  He  would  find  Stumpy !"  Sid 
said,  after  he  had  stopped  to  think  a  minute  more. 

Rex  Brooks  had  been  the  champion  and  friend  of  Stumpy  Piper, 
as  a  big  dog  often  is  of  a  little  one.  He  had  been  given  away  because 
he  would  follow  Dr.  Brooks  on  his  professional  visits  and  had  a  habit 
of  barking  which  annoyed  some  of  the  doctor's  patients. 

"He  was  only  given  to  Aunt  Laura,  out  at  Holdfast,"  Sid  went  on, 
after  thinking  for  another  minute  or  two.  "I'll  tell  you  what.  Phi! 
We'd  better  go  and  borrow  Rex  and  set  him  to  hunting  for  Stumpy ! 
When  we  find  Stumpy ! "    His  breathless  pause  meant  "we  shall  find 


292  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

Peggy,  too."  Phi  shook  his  head  sadly  again,  but  he  agreed  to  the 
plan.  Of  course  they  must  find  Stumpy  if  possible,  even  if  Peggy  were 
drowned  in  the  river. 

The  two  boys  went  out  to  Holdfast  on  their  bicycles  that  very  after- 
noon, and  brought  Rex  home  with  them.  Rex  went  in  search  of  his 
friend  Stumpy  all  over  the  Piper  grounds  and  the  ship-yard  that  very 
nig^t,  and  the  next  morning  he  started  off  eagerly  when  the  boys, 
standing  in  the  highway,  spoke  to  him  earnestly:    ''Find  Stumpy T 

The  boys  had  planned  to  keep  their  expedition  a  secret.  Every 
clew  that  had  been  followed,  ending  in  failure,  had  seemed  to  Phi  to 
make  his  father's  face  whiter,  and  his  mother's  step  more  feeble. 

They  were  only  going  to  find  Stumpy,  this  time,  and  he  did  not 
want  a  word  said  about  that — not  a  word,  Phi  declared. 

Half  the  town  was  now  hunting  for  Stumpy,  on  one  trail  or  an- 
other. Phi  and  Sidney  just  went  to  see,  quite  by  themselves,  what  Rex 
would  do ! 

The  dog  rushed  down  through  the  ship-yard,  to  the  water's  edge. 
Phi  remembered  a  story  he  had  read  of  a  little  dog  that  drowned  him- 
self because  his  master  was  dead !     Had  Peggy's  dog  drowned  himself? 

But  Rex  did  not  drown  himself.  He  turned  along  the  river  bank, 
straight  along  the  bank,  up  the  river.  The  boys,  upon  their  bicycles, 
found  it  difficult  to  follow  him. 

They  were  obliged,  after  a  while,  to  take  to  the  highway  which 
followed  the  course  of  the  river. 

But  Rex  kept  to  the  river  bank,  and  he  held  his  nose  to  the  ground. 
The  boys  Upon  their  bicycles  followed  closely.  Suddenly,  at  a  pretty 
mossy  shaded  spot  upon  the  bank,  Rex  sniffed  and  sniffed  the  ground 
and  then  raised  his  head  and  barked  and  whined.  Then  he  walked  to 
the  water's  edge  and  raised  his  voice  again  in  a  piteous  howl  that  echoed 
far  and  wide. 

"There  is  sure  some  scent  here  that  Rex  knows !?  said  Sid. 

The  dog  had  put  his  nose*  to  the  ground  again  and  was  hurrying 
once  more  along  the  river  bank. 

Phi  bent  his  head  over  the  clayey  soil. 

"A  canoe  has  landed  here  not  very  many  days  ago,"  he  said.  "And 
here  are  small  dog  tracks." 

"There  are  a  good  many  canoes  up  and  down  the  river,"  said  Sid 
carelessly.  "And  every  Indian  has  a  little  dog!  Sid  did  not  think  it 
was  likely  that  either  Peggy  or  Stumpy  had  been  carried  away  in  a 
canoe. 

He  whistled  sharply  to  Rex  but  the  dog,  usually  obedient,  was  too 
intent  upon  following  the  trail  he  had  found  to  return. 

"I  tell  you  we  shall  have  to  hurry  back  into  the  road  to  keep  track 
of  that  dog!"  called  Sid. 

Phi  had  stooped  to  pick  up  a  tiny  red  bit  of  something  from  the 
clay.     There  were  tracks  of  Indian  moccasins.     Some  of  them  that  the 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  293 

'  women  wore  were  embroidered  with  beads.  This  might  be  a  little  red 
bead  from  one  of  them. 

But  no;  it  was  a  coral  bead  broken  from  a  string.  Phi's  heart 
gave  a  great  leap. 

Since  coral  beads  had  come  into  fashion  again  Grandma  had 
brought  hers  out  from  an  old  trunk  and  given  them  to  Peggy. 

Had  Peggy  worn  her  coral  beads  on  the  day  when  she  disappeared  ? 
Phi  thought  there  had  been  no  mention  of  them  in  the  notices  that  had 
been  sent  to  newspapers  far  and  wide. 

Perhaps  no  one  had  thought  of  them ! 

Phi  decided  that  Betty  Brooks  would  be  likely  to  know  whether 
Peggy  had  worn  them*. 

His  impulse  was  to  go  directly  home,  see  Betty,  and  /ind  out.  But 
Sid  was  halloo-ing.  There  really  was  nothing  to  be  done  now  but  to 
follow  that  dog !  ' 

Phi  dropped  the  broken  bead  into  his  pocket,  the  same  pocket  where 
lay  the  water-soaked  hair-ribbon. 

Some  way  the  hair-ribbon  did  not 'mean  quite  so  muph  heartache 
now  that  the  broken  bead  was  there  to  keep  it  company ! 

On  and  on  they  went,  over  the  highway,  while  Rex  dashed  along 
the  bank,  now  through  thickets,  then  in  clearings,  stopping  here  to 
sniff  the  ground,  capering  and  frisking  there  as  if  overjoyed  at  what 
he  found.  And  always  keeping  up  the  loud  barking  that  told  the  boys 
where  he  was ! 

"That  dog's  habit  of  barking  is  of  some  use,  after  all !"  said  Sid. 

Both  boys  felt  almost  certain  that  Rex  was  on  Stumpy's  track. 

But  it  began  to  look  as  if  Stumpy  had  gone  a  great  ways. 

"I  can't  see  what  would  send  a  dog  away  up  here!"  said  Sid  at 
length,  halting  doubtfully  upon  his  wheel.  "We  are  almost  up  to  the 
Indian  island !" 

"I  am  going  as  far  as  that  if  Rex  goes,"  said  Phi  positively.  "And 
I  am  going  to  try  to  get  across  to  the  island  if  Rex  seems  to  want  to 
go  there !" 

"They  say  that  the  rich  old  squaw  who  rules  and  reigns  there 
doesn't  much  like  white  boys,"  said  Sidney  doubtfully. 

"She  has  no  right  to  say  that  white  boys  shan't  go  there  and  I  am 
certainly  going!"  repeated  Phi. 

Phi  had  been  thinking  of  that  place  where  he  had  found  the  coral 
bead — ^broken  as  if  some  one  had  pulled  at  the  string  in  haste — and  of 
the  small  dog-tracks  and  the  imprint  of  a  canoe  upon  the  clay. 

Almost  no  one  except  Indians  used  canoes  upon  that  river ! 

"Yes,  sir,  I  am  certainly  going  to  that  Indian  island  if  Rex  behaves 
as  if  he  wanted  to  go!"  said  Phi  again  with  strong  emphasis.  "I  be- 
lieve that  dog  knows  what  he  is  about !" 

(to  be  continued) 


294  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


MANY  LIVES  AT  STAKE. 

By  Helen  T.  Montfort;  Age  75. 


"Mother,  dear  how  is  the  pain  now?" 

"A  trifle  easier,  Kenneth." 

"Hadn't  I  better  go  for  Dr.  Booth?  You  might  have  something 
worse  than  just  a  cold?" 

"No,  dear;  Fll  be  better  soon,"  sighed  the  sick  woman,  as  she 
turned  over  in  her  bed  to  go  to  sleep. 

Mrs.  Osborne  had  been  sick  for  two  days,  and  owing  to  the  fact 
that  she  and  her  thirteen-year-old  son,  Kenneth,  lived  two  miles  away 
from  the  village  and  that  for  the  last  week  there  had  been  a  continuous 
storm,  none  of  their  friends  had  yet  heard  of  her  illness.  Her  husband, 
who  had  been  an  engineer,  was  killed  in  a  wreck,  and  the  shock  of  his 
death  had  left  her  delicate  in  health. 

The  odd  jobs  that  Kenneth  did  after  school  hours  and  the  sewing 
his  mother  took  in  supported  them,  for  they  lived  inexpensively  and  the 
rent  of  the  cottage  was  small.  But,  unfortunately,  this  Winter  had 
been  unusually  cold,  and  as  fuel  had  been  scarce  the  little  pile  of  money 
had  gone  rapidly  down  toward  the  toe  of  the  old  stocking. 

Mrs.  Osborne  had  caught  a  hard  cold,  and  as  it  grew  rapidly  worse 
Kenneth  grew  alarmed,  for  now  her  racking  cough  came  from  the  lungs. 
The  boy  had  not  been  able  to  go  to  school  because  of  the  poor  condition 
of  the  roads  during  the  storm,  so  had  ample  time  to  serve  his  mother. 
As  dusk  came  on  he  lighted  the  lamps  and  walked  softly  into  his 
mother's  room.  She  being  asleep,  he  went  back  to  the  kitchen  and 
began  reading. 

Presently  he  was  aroused  by  a  call  of  "Kenneth,  Kenneth !"  Hastily 
he  put  down  his  book  and  went  to  his  mother.  She  was  lying  down, 
breathing  hard,  and  with  great  effort  she  gasped,  "Go  for  Dr.  Brown 
-Kiuick !" 

Before  she  could  get  further  than  "Doctor"  the  boy  was  off  like  a 
flash.  He  hurriedly  put  another  stick  in  the  stove  and  wrapped  a  muf- 
fler around  his  throat.  Then  hastily  he  tied  a  long  cord  around  the 
collar  of  his  great  St.  Bernard  and,  catching  up  a  lantern,  started  off 
for  the  village. 

Outside  the  wind  was  raw  and  cold,  and  the  snow  blew  in  fitful 
gusts.  But  this  night  of  darkness  and  cold  held  no  terrors  for  the  boy 
of  the  plains.  As  he  went  hurriedly  over  the  snow-beaten  path,  his 
faithful  dog,  not  understanding  the  master's  gravity,  suddenly  gave  a 
loud  bark,  followed  by  others  of  a  sharper  variety,  and  bounded  off 
before  the  boy.  But  Kenneth  called  him  back  and  patted  the  animal 
on  the  head,  saying:  "No,  Jack;  no  barking  nor  whistling  till  mother  i 
is  well  again."  And  the  good  dog  seemingly  comprehending,  walked 
sedately  by  the  boy. 

Soon  the  lone  pair  neared  the  railroad  track  and,  with  his  lantern 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  295 

swinging  along  at  his  side,  the  boy  started  to  cross  it  when  something 
glittering  caught  his  eye.  He  kneeled  down  and  was  closely  inspecting 
it  when  a  cry  of  horror  arose  from  his  lips.  What !  Could  it  possibly 
be!  Yes,  it  was!  A  rail  had  broken  and  was  projecting  out  on  the 
other  side  of  the  track,  meaning  a  wreck  for  the  7 :30  limited. 

What  was  he  to  do?  If  he  waited  for  the  train,  which  would  prob- 
ably be  late,  owing  to  the  storm,  his  mother's  condition  might  grow 
worse.  If  he  ran  on  for  the  doctor,  the  lives  of  the  passengers  on  the 
limited  would  be  endangered  to  a  great  extent. 

Duty  and  love !    Which  should  he  choose  ? 

While  his  mind  was  revolving  these  thoughts  his  eye  lighted  on  the 
faithful  Jack.  Suddenly  an  idea  occurred  to  him.  He  gave  a  cry  of 
joy,  and  in  a  twinkling  had  wired  the  lantern  to  the  collar  of  the  bewil- 
dered animal.  Then,  allowing  but  a  few  feet  of  cord,  he  fastened  one 
end  to  the  rail,  the  other  being  securely  tied  to  the  dog's  collar. 

He  patted  the  animal  affectionately  and  then  started  off.  Jar.K  <a/\» 
not  understand  these  maneuvers,  and  tried  to  follow  his  master,  but  tne 
commanding  presence  of  the  rope  compelled  him  to  retreat,  which  pro- 
duced a  long  series  of  barks.  And  Kenneth  strode  on,  his  mind  filled 
with  perplexity  as  to  whether  he  had  done  right. 

"Forty  minutes  late!  'Guess  she'll  stand  more  speed."  The  speaker 
turned  to  his  companion,  who  grunted  acquiescence. 

"Chilly  weather,  this!"  The  speaker  was  not  rewarded  this  time 
by  either  a  grunt  or  a  nod  from  his  companion,  for  that  worthy  person 
was  otherwise  engaged,  being  at  that  moment  leaning  far  out  of  the 
cab  window  of  the  limited. 

Suddenly  an  exclamation  burst  from  his  lips,  and  with  one  bound 
he  had  drawn  his  head  from  the  window  and,  rushing  over  to  a  long 
lever,  pulled  it  with  such  force  that  the  long  train  came  to  an  almost 
abrupt  standstill. 

"Heaven,  man !  Why  did  you  do  that?"  exclaimed  the  first  speaker, 
Robbins  by  name. 

Without  repl)dng  to  his  query  the  fireman  jumped  to  the  ground 
just  as  the  train  ceased  motion.  Simultaneously  several  other  officials 
did  so,  and  they  advanced  to  the  spot  where  a  light  shone,  as  a  solitary 
star,  on  the  track.  Here  they  found  a  huge  St.  Bernard,  none  other 
than  our  friend  Jack,  sitting  in  the  middle  of  the  track,  trembling  and 
shivering  in  the  cold,  with  a  lantern  wired  to  his  collar.  The  dog  jumped 
up  joyfully  when  freed,  but  his  tail,  stiffened  from  the  cold,  could  not 
wag  with  its  usual  velocity. 

''What  in  thunder  did  anyone  want  to  tie  a  dog  to  a  railroad  track 
this  cold  night,  and  with  a  lighted  lantern !"  It  was  the  fireman  who 
spoke.  Then  suddenly  his  eye  caught  the  gleam  of  the  broken  rail,  and 
with  an  exclamation  he  called  to  his  companions  to  look.  They  did, 
and  their  faces  grew  grave  as  they  thought  of  the  danger  that  had  been 
so  imminent. 


296  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

But  who  had  tied  the  dog  to  the  track?  Here  was  a  mystery. 
There  were  footprints  in  the  snow.  Faint  tracks,  which  led  to  the 
village,  could  be  seen,  but  that  was  all.  As  they  stood,  gesticulating 
and  wondering  who  their  benefactor  might  be,  the  sound  of  an  ap- 
proaching horse  was  heard.  It  grew  nearer  and  nearer  and  finally 
stopped  a  few  feet  away,  and  a  boy  climbed  down  from  a  light  business 
buggy.  Then  a  crack  of  a  whip  and  the  hoof  beats  continued,  this  time 
receding  in  the  distance. 

Running  up  to  the  dog,  around  which  the  men  were  circled,  the 
boy  threw  his  arm  around  the  neck  of  his  beloved  pet,  who  in  his  turn 
barked  in  recognition. 

"What  does  this  mean?"  "Is  this  your  dog?"  "Did  you  tie  him 
here?"  were  the  various  questions  from  the  men. 

"Yes,  yes,"  cried  Kenneth,  for  it  was  he.     "I  did." 

And  he  told  them  the  whole  story — of  his  fear  of  his  mother's 
condition  and  his  perplexity  as  to  what  he  should  do  on  the  discovery  of 
the  broken  rail.  Then  suddenly  he  jumped  up  from  his  leaning  posture 
over  the  dog,  saying  that  he  must  now  return  and  see  what  the  doctor, 
who  had  driven  him  to  the  train,  said  of  his  mother's  condition. 

But  he  was  gently  detained  by  the  crowd  of  excited  passengers, 
who  realized  what  the  boy  had  done  and  how  much  they  owed  him, 
also  the  dog.  Question  after  question  was  poured  upon  him  with  such 
rapidity  that  the  boy's  mind  was  bewildered. 

Who  was  his  father?  What  did  he  do?  An  engineer?  Why, 
they  knew  him  well ! 

Today  Kenneth  Osborne  is  one  of  the  most  trusted  engineers  in 
the  company,  in  which  his  father  had  been  employed  and  which  he  him- 
self had  aided  when  a  boy. 

His  mother  fully  recovered  her  health  and  loves  to  tell  the  story 
of  her  boy  and  his  faithful  dog.  Jack. 


VACATION. 


Hail,  that  long-awaited  day 

When  the  school  books  laid  away. 

All  the  thoughts  of  merry  youngsters  turn  from  pages  back  to  play  I 

Done  with  lesson  and  with  rule, 

Done  with  teacher  and  with  school, 

Stray  the  vagrant  hearts  of  childhood  to  the  tempting  wood  and  pool! 

Hear  the  green  woods  cry  and  call, 

Through  the  summer  to  the  fall, 
"We  are  waiting,  waiting,  waiting,  with  a  welcome  for  you  all !" 

Hear  the  lads  take  up  the  cry. 

With  an  echo,  shrill  and  high : 
"We  are  coming,  coming,  coming,  for  vacation  time  is  nigh !" 

— Selected. 


'0nmy^  (bair^ 


EMILIE  POULSSON 


Whenever  a  drive  with  the  donkey  I  take, 
1  see  the  big  V  that  his  slanting  ears  make, 
And  words  that  begin  with  a  V  come  to  mind, 
Descnbing  his  condutft,  no  matter  what  kind. 

IE  Barney  is  sulky  and  ^bbofn  and  slow. 
Goes  poking  along  or  refuses  to  go. 
Or  if  he  is  frisky  and  capers  and  kicks, 
Or  upsets  the  cart,  or  does  other  bad  tricks, 
I  say  'tis  no  wonder  he  wears  a  big  V, 
So  Vexing  and  Vicious  a  Villian  is  he ! 


low,  so  pr^  and  itrong, 
nor  trots  nimUy  along, 

for  the  Virtues  he  shows, 
y  with  which  he  goes — 
nore  Valued  each  year — 

Vivacious  old  dear ! 


298         /  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

SEVENTY  PER  CENT. 

"What  do  you  think  of  my  chum,  Uncle  Horace?"  asked  Jamcb, 
almost  as  soon  as  the  door  closed  behind  Ralph  Walton.  "Of  course 
you  have  seen  him  only  once,  but  I  am  sure  you  think  he  is  a  splendid 
fellow." 

"Then  it's  evident  you  wish  me  to  say  that,"  said  Mr.  Lawton 
laughingly.  "Is'nt  it  odd  that  we  prefer  to  have  our  opinions  seconded, 
rather  than  have  the  real  thoughts  of  other  people  ?" 

"I  suppose  that  means  you  were  not  favorably  impressed  with 
Ralph,"  said  his  nephew.  "Well,  tell  me  your  real,  candid  opinion, 
whatever  it  is.  Mother  says  I  like  Ralph  so  well  that  I  imagine  he 
hasn't  any  faults." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Mr.  Lawton,  "but  your  friend 
strikes  me  as  about  a  seventy-per-cent  boy.  I  may  be  mistaken,  but  I 
think  not" 

"How  in  the  world  did  you  find  that  out?"  asked  James  in  surprise. 
"Ralph  is  a  bright  fellow,  but  he  is  satisfied  with  seventy  per  cent,  as  you 
say.  He  can  get  that  grade  without  much  work,  and  as  long  as  he 
doesn't  fail,  he  is  satisfied.  You  don't  think  that's  a  serious  fault,  do 
you?" 

"I  would  not  have  that  kind  of  boy  in  my  store  or  office,"  said  Mr. 
Lawton  promptly.  "If  I  pay  a  man-  a  dollar,  and  he  gives  me  only 
seventy  cents'  worth  of  work,  I  would  very  soon  fail  in  business." 

"Oh,  that's  a  diflferent  thing,"  said  James.  "I  don't  believe  Ralph 
would  shirk  if  he  worked  in  a  store  or  office.  He  will  have  to  stop 
going  to  school  this  term  because  his  mother  needs  him,  so  he  thinks  it 
doesn't  matter  very  much  so  long  as  he  cannot  g^duate  and  go  to 
college." 

"All  the  more  reason  why  he  should  work  harder.  I  noticed  this 
afternoon  that  he  said  several  times  he  must  start  home  to  do  the  evening 
chores  for  his  mother,  and  it  was  dark  before  he  left.  Will  he  do  the 
chores  after  he  gets  home,  or  will  his  mother  leave  her  sewing  and  have 
them  done  for  him  when  he  gets  there?" 

"Why — why,  I  guess  she  does  them  when  Ralph  is  late.  He  in- 
tends to  support  her  just  as  soon  as  he  gets  good  wages,  and  she  will 
not  have  to  sew  any  more.  Ralph  is  the  best-hearted  boy  in  the  world, 
wncle." 

"I  suppose  the  thought  that  after  a  while  he  will  do  great  things  is 
sufficient  reason  for  •neglecting  the  small  ones  now.  You  see,*  James, 
you  asked  for  my  real  opinion,  and  now  you  don't  like  to  hear  it." 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  it,"  said  James  frankly,  "but  it  is  hardly  fair 
for  you  to  be  prejudiced.  Mother  is  always  saying  those  things  about 
Ralph,  but  I  didn't  know  she  had  told  you  so  soon  after  you  came 
today." 

"Your  mother  didn't  tell  me.  Ralph  told  all  this,  and  more,  too, 
by  his  ways  and  conversation,  this  afternoon.  I  cannot  understand  why 
boys  are  content  to  be  just  average,  and  no  more,  since  the  world  needs 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  299 

sturdy,  active,  young  people,  more  now  than  ever  before  in  its  history." 

"I  wish  you  would  tell  me  how  you  discovered  all  this  about  Ralph 
in  such  a  short  time,"  said  James.  "Maybe  you  could  tell  me  some 
interesting  things  about  myself  that  wouldn't  sound  well.  Are  you  a 
mind  reader?" 

"Not  a  bit  of  it.  You  see  we  have  a  great  many  applicants  for 
positions,  and  we  make  it  a  point  to  have  a  long  conversation  with  each 
boy,  if  possible.  The  old  gentleman  whp  took  me  into  the  store  as  office 
boy  years  ago  taught  me  that,  and  I  never  have  forgotten  his  wise 
counsel.  A  boy  can  tell  most  of  his  past  history  in  the  course  of  an 
^Jternoon,  and  an  employer  can  tell  whether  or  not  it  will  be  profitable 
to  employ  him.  I  learned  this  afternoon  that  your  friend  is  the  eldest 
of  a  large  family  of  small  means.  I  also  found  out  that  he  is  making 
no  effort  to  do  work  out  of  school  hours  to  help  support  the  family,  but 
is  dreaming  of  the  time  when  he  will  do  his  duty.  He  told  me  that  it 
was  not  worth  while  to  work  hard  in  his  classes  and  that  his  education 
is  to  come  to  a  close  when  he  leaves  school.  Now  what  could  be  easier 
than  to  discover  that  he  is  only  a  seventy-per-cent  youth  ?  It  isn't  pos- 
sible for  every  boy  to  have  one  hundred  per  cent  in  all  his  studies,  but 
he  can  try  for  it." 

"I  never  dreamed  that  men  had  a  sort  of  mental  measure  by  which 
to  judge  boys,"  said  James  in  great  astonishment.  "I  wish  you  would 
tell  me  all  about  piyself." 

"You  don't  need  anyone  to  tell  you,  do  you?" 

"No,  I  think  not,"  said  the  boy  slowly.  "I  suppose  I  know  what 
I  ought  to  do,  but  somehow,  I  let  playtime  intefere  with  my  work  just 
as  Ralph  does." 

"Ralph  wouldn't  always  be  talking  about  what  he  intends  to  do 
after  a  while  if  his  conscience  were  clear,"  said  Mr.  Lawton.  "In  time 
the  warning  voice  will  cease  to  speak  unless  he  heeds  it,  and  he  will  fall 
below  even  seventy  per  cent.  The  world  is  full  of  failures  brought  about, 
not  by  misfortune,  but  by  laziness.  To  be  contented  with  anything  less 
than  the  best  that  is  in  you  means  ultimate  failure." 

"I'm  going  right  out  to  do  my  own  chores,"  said  James  promptly. 
"I  hope  whenever  I  have  a  contented  spell  I'll  remember  that  some  one 
is  taking  my  measure." — Hilda  Richmond. 


MINISTRY  OF  FLOWERS. 

Your  voiceless  lips,  O  flowers !  are  living  preachers, 

Each  cup  a  pulpit,  every  leaf  a  book. 
Supplying  to  my  fancy  numerous  teachers 

From  loneliest  nook. 

Not  useless  are  ye,  flowers !  though  made  for  pleasure ; 

Blooming  each  year  in  Nature's  widespread  hall. 
What  a  delightful  lesson  thou  impartest 

Of  love  to  all.  — Horace  Smith. 


300  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


A  LITTLE  GERMAN  BOY. 

BY  MARION  C.  CUTLER. 

Franz  was  a  German  boy,  and  a  noble  fellow,  though  he  was  very 
poor.  One  day  a  ranch  owner  stopped  him  by  the  wayside,  and  said, 
"Franz,  I  want  you  to  watch  a  flock  of  sheep  tomorrow*.  Will  you 
do  it?" 

Franz,  only  too  eager  to  earn  a  little  money  in  order  to  help  his 
mother,  responded  readily,  "Yes,  any  time/' 

The  next  morning  found  Franz,  with  two  bundle  J  sheep,  in  a  small 
valley.  As  he  was  talking  low  to  the  lambs  a  traveler  came  by  and 
asked,  "How  far  is  it  to  the  next  ranch  ?" 

"Fifteen  miles,  sir,"  replied  the  boy.  "There  are  many  cross-roads, 
and  the  way  is  easily  missed." 

The  traveler  was  tired  and  hungry  and  said,  "My  boy,  if  you  will 
leave  your  sheep  and  show  me  the  way,  I  will  pay  you  well  for  doing  so." 

"Oh !"  said  Franz,  "I  cannot  leave  my  sheep,  they  v^ould  get  lost." 

*'What  if  they  do?"  answered  the  traveler.  ""They  are  not  yours 
and  money  is  worth  more  than  sheep.     For  how  long  are  you  working?" 

"A  day,  sir." 

"Huh!"  grunted  the  man-  "A  da>  1  I  will  give -you  enough  for 
a  year." 

"No,  sir,"  replied  Franz ;  "they  have  been  entrusted  to  my  care  and 
I  cannot  leave  them  for  any  money." 

"Well,  my  lad,  you  know  the  way  in  this  part  of  the  country  better 
than  I  do.  I  will  watch  your  sheep,  if  you  will  go  back  to  your  master's 
house  and  tell  him  that  there  is  a  traveler  who  cannot  find  the  way  to 
the  next  ranch,  and  ask  him  to  let  you  go  with  him,  and  to  send  some 
one  to  care  for  the  sheep." 

"No,  sir,  I  cannot,"  said  Franz,  shaking  his  head. 

"Do  you  think,"  said  the  man  angrily,  "that  I  will  run  off  with  your 
sheep  ?" 

"I  don't  know,  sir — but — the  sheep  don't  belong  to  you — ^neither 
do  I — ^and  you  have  tried  to  tempt  me  with  money.  I — I — "stammered 
Franx,  "if  you  will  take  luncheon  with  me  and  wait  until  sundown  when 
I  return  with  the  sheep,  I  am  sure  my  master,  and  perhaps,  I  can  help 
you  on  your  way  to  the  next  ranch." 

"I  can't  wait  so  long." 

"I'm  sorry,  but  I  cannot  go,  sir." 

The  traveler  sat  by  the  wayside.  Presently,  he  said:  "You  are 
a  noble  youth,  and  you  have  done  right.  You  shall  be  rewarded  for 
your  honesty  and  faithfulness  to  your  duty." 

That  night,  the  ranch-owner  made  Franz  keeper  of  the  folds ;  and 
the  traveler  gave  the  boy  money  enough  to  keep  mother  from  worrying, 
for  many  months. 


run  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  301 


ROLLY-POLY. 

No,  Rolly-poly  wasn't  a  pt^ppy.  or  a  pussy  cat,  or  even  a  pudding 
with  blackberries  in  it.  He  was  just  a  chubby,  little  baby,  and  his  four- 
year-old  brother  Donald  gave  him  his  name.  It  was  a  good  name  for 
him,  too,  for  his  real  name  was  Roland  Marsh,  and  he  was  just  as  fat 
as  he  could  be. 

Instead  of  creeping,  Rolly-poly,  true  to  his  name,  always  rolled. 
Sometimes  he  helped  the  roll  along  with  a  sort  of  side  motion,  using  his 
right  hand  to  push  with;  but  generally  he  just  rolled  over  and  over, 
laughing  and  crowing  with  great  delight. 

One  day-  RoUy-poly's  mother  went  to  market  and  left  Donald  in 
charge.  A  big  blanket  was  spread  on  the  grass  in  the  back  yard,  and 
here  the  boy  and  the  baby  were  expected  to  stay  until  mother's  return. 
They  had  been  there  about  fifteen  minutes  when  Bobby  Green  appeared. 
Bobby  Green  was  the  little  boy  next  door. 

"Come  on  over  and  play  croquet,"  said  Bobby. 

"Can't  leave  Roily,"  Donald  answered. 

"Oh,  yes,  you  can,"  urged  the  older  boy.  We  will  watch  Roily 
from  our  yard." 

It  was  too  inviting,  and  Donald  yielded.  Bobby's  house  was  separ- 
ated from  the  Marsh  cottage  only  by  a  sort  of  terrace.  Donald  and 
Bobby  ran  down  the  bank,  and  were  soon  absorbed  in  croquet.  Rolly- 
poly,  left  to  himself,  didn't  have  anything  to  do,  so,  after  playing  with 
his  toes  for  a  while,  he  put  his  thumb  into  his  mouth  and  went  to  sleep. 

"I  smell  ginger  cookies !"  announced  Donald,  after  they  had  been 
playing  a  few  minutes.     "Let's  go  in  my  house  and  get  some." 

It  didn't  take  long  for  two  pairs  of  stout  legs  to  carry  two  hungry 
boys  in  the  direction  of  the  smell,  I  can  tell  you ;  and  it  didn't  take  long 
for  the  two  hungry  boys  to  devour  about  six  cookies  each ;  but  it  did 
take  almost  half  an  hour  for  Donald  to  show  Bobby  the  new  engine 
that  his  father  had  brought  home  from  Boston.  When  the  two  boys 
came  out  of  the  house,  Rolly-poly  was  nowhere  in  sight.  They  looked 
at  each  other,  very  much  scared,  then  Donald  began  to  cry. 

"Oh,. dear,  Rolly's  been  kidnaped,  and  it's  all  my  fault!"  he  wailed. 

As  the  boys  approached  the  blanket  they '  heard  something  that 
sounded  like  a  gurgle,  but  not  a  sign  of  a  baby  could  they  see.  They 
followed  the  sound,  just  the  same,  and  what  do  you  think?  There  was 
Rolly-poly  in  the  Green's  yard,  under  a  blackberry  bush.  He  had  rolled 
down  the  bank  and  was  now  lying  all  unhurt,  talking  to  himself. 

"He's  trying  to  make  a  blackberry  Rolly-poly  out  of  himself,"  said 
Bobby  Grreen.  But  Donald  only  gave  a  sigh  of  relief  and  wiped  away 
a  grimy  tear  with  his  coat  sleeve. — Selected. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


DUTY  FIRST. 

The  midnight  ride  of  Paul  Revere  may  have  been  a  dazzling  his- 
torical episode,  but  little  Jimmy  Overtree,  a  Western  Union  messenger 
of  Indianapolis,  Indiana,  is  somewhat  of  a  thriller  himself.  Only 
Jimmy  rode  a  bicycle. 

The  other  day  Jimmy  was  sent  to  answer  a  call  to  the  State  House, 
He  mounted  his  wheel  and  swung  rapidly  around  the  Circle  into  Market 
Street.  On  he  went  until  he  came  to  Capitol  Avenue.  He  slowed 
down  to  stop  at  the  Capitol  Avenue  entrance  to  the  Capitol.  Just  then 
a  big  automobile  bore  down  upon  him  and  Jimmy  and  his  wheel  went 
into  the  air.  The  boy  was  picked  up  unconscious.  A  woman  who  had 
been  a  passenger  in  the  car.  knelt  beside  him  and  fanned  him  while  the 
driver  went  to  call  the  City  Dispensary  ambulance. 

While  they  waited  for  the  ambulance  Jimmy  began  showing  signs 
of  returning  consciousness.     He  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  around  him. 

"Lie  still,  dear,"  the  woman  said  sympathetically,  "Lie  still  and 
wait  for  the  ambulance." 

The  mention  of  ambulance  brought  the  messenger  boy  to  his  feet. 

"Ambulance!"  he  said  disgustedly.     "The  governor  wants  me!" 

And  before  she  could  restrain  him  he  was  off  and  into  the  State 
House.  The  ambulance  came,  the  automobilists  explained,  and  the 
ambulance  returned  to  the  dispensary  without  a  patient. 

The  horses  had  hardly  been  out  of  their  harness  a  moment  before 
a  call  came  for  it  to  go  to  the  Western  Union  office.  Jimmy  had  got 
his  message  and,  we^  and  sick,  stumbled  into  the  office  with  it.  He 
fell  just  as  he  handed  it  to  the  receiving  clerk.  The  ambulance  took 
him  home.  He  remained  there  three  or  four  days  and  then  returned 
to  his  job. 


THE  TENNIS  NET. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  303 


.    i 


ONE  DAY  OF  FUN. 

BY  MAY  G.   MOOAR. 

Things  were  going  hard  in  the  little  white  cottage  under  the  hill, 
for  last  winter  the  father  had  gone  on  a  journey  from  which  he  never 
would  come  back,  and  there  was  very  little  money  to  provide  food  and 
clothes  for  the  five  hungry  boys  and  girls.  So,  one  night  when  old  Mr. 
Hunt,  who  lived  on  the  farm  on  top  of  the  hill,  sent  word  for  Mrs. 
Benson  and  John  to  come  up,  and  offered  to  give  John  his  board  and 
clothes,  and  send  him  to  school,  and,  during  the  summer  when  there  was 
no  school,  to  give  him  two  dollars  a  week  besides,  John's  mother  thought 
she  must  accept  the  offer. 

"You  see,"  Mr.  Hunt  explained  rather  gruffly,  "I  shouldn't  need 
no  help  if  'twan't  for  my  rheumatism ;  but  I  have  to  have  a  boy  to  step 
round  spry  in  my  place,  and  I  cal'late  John  ain't  afraid  o'  work ;  be  ye, 
boy?" 

"No,  sir,"  John  answered  sturdily,  and  so  the  bargain  was  closed 
and  Mrs.  Benson  went. home  down  the  hill  trying  to  keep  the  tears  out 
of  her  tyts, 

"I  know  Mr.  Hunt  will  treat  him  better  than  most  folks  would," 
she  said  to  herself,  "even  if  he  does  have  to  work  hard,  but  it  seems  as 
if  I  couldn't  put  him  out  to  work  when  he's  only  twelve." 

Play  days  evidently  were  not  part  of  the  bargain  in  Mr.  Hunt's 
mind,  for  every  morning  at  six  all  through  the  cold,  dark  winter  days 
the  sleepy  John  would  hear:  "Time  to  get  up,  John.  Cows  to  be 
milked  and  hens  fed  'fore  school,  yer  know."  And  by  the  time  the  last 
dumb  animal  had  been  carefully  attended  to  at  night,  and  the  wqpd  box 
filled,  John  was  too  tired  to  care  to-  do  anything  else  but  go  to  bed. 

*  When  summer  came,  two  boys  about  John's  age  came  to  board  at 
the  next  farm,  and  one  evening  during  his  weekly  visit  home,  John  ex- 
claimed in  a  burst  of  confidence  to  his  younger  sister  Nan :  "It's  harder 
than  ever  to  keep  right  on  working  every  minute,  when  those  boys  have 
nothing  to  do  from  morning  till  night  but  have  fun.  I  thought  when 
they  came  they'd  just  feel  stuck  up  and  think  I  wasn't  fit  to  associate 
with,  but  they  invite  me  to  go  everywhere  with  them,  and  I  don't  know 
but  what  it's  worse  always  to  have  to  say  I  can't  go,  than  if  they  didn't 
think  I  was  fit  for  anything  but  to  wipe  their  feet  on." 

Nan's  sympathetic  face  clouded,  for  John  very  rarely  complained. 

"It's  a  shame,  John ;  it  seems  as  if  Mr.  Hunt  might  let  you  go  once 
in  a  while,  doesn't  it  ?" 

"Wish  he  would,  but  I  know  I'm  paid  to  work,  and  I  have  mother 
and  all  the  rest  of  you  to  look  out  for,"  and  John  squared  his  shoulders 
manfully.  "They've  asked  me  to  go  canoeing  with  them  next  Monday, 
but  I  don't  dare  ask  Mr.  Hunt  to  let  me  off,  for  I  know  he  wants  to  get 
the  hay  in  then." 

John's  courage  rose  high  enough  Sunday  night  to  allow  him  to 


304  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

mention  the  proposed  expedition  to  Mr.  Hunt,  only  to  be  met  with  a 
rather  curt  response : 

**Want  to  go,  I  s'pose.  Well,  hay's  spoiling  now,  so  much  damp 
weather.  If  the  sun  shines,  we  must  work  all  day  on  the  Moody  lot, 
and  if  it  rains,  you  and  I  must  tackle  the  wood  pile.  Them  birch 
sticks  most  all  used  up  now." 

The  next  day  was  bright  and  sunny,  and  as  the  canoeing  party 
passed  the  Moody  lot,  swinging  their  paddles  and  luncheon  baskets, 
John  couldn't  help  swallowing  hard,  as  he  waved  his  rake  in  response 
to  the  Reed  boy's  greetings ;  and  through  the  hot  summer  day  he  won- 
dered how  far  up  the  river  the  canoe  had  gone  that  Mr.  Hunt  twice 
asked  him  sharply  if  his  wits  were  wool-gathering. 

It  was  this  same  way  all  summer.  The  boys,  at  first,  asked  him  to 
join  in  all  their  expeditions,  but  as  he  always  had  to  refuse,  they  stopped 
after  a  while ;  and  only  the  memory  of  how  much  the  two  dollars  helped 
the  tired  little  mother  at  home  kept  John  happy  with  the  gruff  old 
farmer,  and  his  wife,  and  the  endless  round  of  farm  work. 

But  under  the  brusque  manners  a  more  kindly  heart  was  beating 
than  some  of  Mr.  Hunt's  neighbors  suspected,  and  a  few  days  before 
the  Reed  boys  went  home  the  old  man  said : — ^^ 

"Well,  John,  you've  worked  hard  all  summer,  and  I'll  give  you 
one  day  off  for  a  holiday  before  school  opens.    When  shall  it  be?" 

"Oh,  sir,"  the  boy  explained,  his  face  flushed  with  pleasure,  "could 
I  go  tomorrow  ?  Dave  and  Rob  are  going  fishing  over  to  Hood's  pond 
and  they've  asked  me  to  go,  too." 

"All  right  ,go  ahead  as  early  as  you  want  to,  and  stay  as  late," 
he  added  generously. 

It  was  easy  to  get  up  that  morning  at  six  o'clock,  and  before  seven, 
with  fishing  rod  over  his  shoulder  and.  a  tomato  can  for  bait,  John 
joined  the  other  boys  at  the  wooded* path  leading  to  Hood's  Pond. 

It  must  have  been  a  good  day  for  fishing,  for  never  was  better 
success  met  with  by  three  boys,  and  before  noon,  hungry  and  happy, 
they  came  back  to  the  sheltered  little  beach  where  they  had  left  their 
luncheon  baskets  that  morning. 

"There  must  be  a  party  camping  there  for  the  day,"  John  said  as 
they  came  in  sight  of  the  spot;  "let's  go  somewhere  else.  We  don't 
want  to  make  a  fire  in  that  crowd.     See  all  those  folks!" 

But  Dave  and  Rob  pushed  on  without  replying,  and  in  a  minute 
John  saw  familiar  faces — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hunt,  mother.  Nan,  and  all 
the  Benson  family. 

"Why,  what  are  you  doing  here  ?"  John  exclaimed  in  astonishment 
It  seemed  beyond  belief  that  Mr.  Hunt  should  be  on  a  picnic. 

"We  thought  we  would  come  down  here  and  get  dinner  for  a 
friend  of  ours,"  Mr.  Hunt  said  with  a  chuckle;  "won't  you  stay  and 
have  some  with  us  ?' 

"Why,  who  is  he?  Anyone  I  know,  mother?"  he  asked  in  bewilder- 
ment, and  then  he  stopped  and  grew  red  from  ear  to  ear,  and  stood  first 
on  one  foot  and  then  on  the  other. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  305 

"Guess  youVe  seen  him,"  Mr.  Hunt  replied,  shortly,  "but  this  corn's 
most  done  now,  and  the  fire  needs  feeding,  so  bring  some  more  wood, 
John,  and  don't  stand  talking.  The  r^st  of  you  young  fellers  better 
clean  yer  fish  if  you  want  to  have  them  cooked." 

It  was  a  wonderful  dinner.  Potatoes,  and  com,  and  fish,  cooked 
over  the  camp  fire,  and  then  cake,  and  pie,  and  watermelon,  completed 
a  feast  such  as  the  little  Benson's  rarely  saw. 

"Tell  you  what,"  John  confided  to  Nan  an  hour  later,  as  well  as  he 
could  with  his  mouth  full  of  watermelon,  "it  pays  to  work  like  a  beaver 
all  summer  if  you  can  have  one  day  of  fun  like  this  at  the  end." 


THE  STARTING  PLACE. 

"Do  you  like  to  be  a  grocer's  boy,  Robert  ?"  Sarah  Elizabeth  stood 
watching  her  brother  as  he  wrestled  with  the  kitchen  fire  in  the  early 
cool  of  a  July  morning.  Their  mother  had  not  come  out  yet,  and  Mr. 
Dilworth  had  not  even  come  in  for  his  eggs  and  coffee. 

"I  hate  to  think  of  you,"  continued  Sarah  Elizabeth,  with  a  tone 
of  pride  in  her  voice,  "all  day  carrying  cabbages  and  potatoes  and  onions 
and  things  around  to  people's  kitchens.  Of  course  there  is  no  harm 
in  it,  but  then  you  know  Professor  Jim  said  you  had  such  a  fine  head 
it  was  a  pity  you  had  to  quit  school  at  seventeen. 

"It's  vacation  now,"  said  Robert,  beginning  to  whistle  softly. 

"You  know  what  I  mean,"  said  Sarah  Elizabeth.  "If  you  can't 
keep  going  to  school  I  wish  you  could  clerk  in  the  Bee  Hive  or  some- 
thing like  that.    I  know  you  could  do  it." 

"Do  you  like  to  keep  a  boarding  house?"  asked  Robert.  "I  hate 
to  think  of  you  and  mother  here  in  the  kitchen  these  hot  days." 

"What  makes  you  keep  stirring  it  up?  you  know  I  feel  bad  enough 
about  it."    And  Sarah  Elizabeth  began  to  cry. 

"Now  Sa'h  Lizzie,"  said  Robert,  somewhat  subdued.  "I  thought 
you  were  a  girl  of  more  back  bone  than  that.  You  know  I  was  just 
talking  because  you  did." 

"Well,  you  know  you  don't  care  as  much  as  I  do,"  said  Sarah 
Elizabeth,  as  she  wiped  her  face  on  the  kitchen  towel.  "It  seems  like 
sometimes  I  can't  stand  it.  I  always  did  hate  to  cook  and  wash  dishes. 
And  then  to  have  to  stay  away  from  school  and  not  have  time  to  make 
anything  pretty.  I  guess  I  couldn't  draw  anything  but  pot-hooks  now 
if  I  had  time  to  try."  * 

She  tried  to  laugh,  and  Robert  did,  too.  Then  he  went  on  seriously : 
"Yes,  I  did  care  as  much  at  first.  But  something  Professor  Jim  said 
to  me  the  day  I  set  in  at  Wade  and  Hamilton's  has  kept  me  boosted  up 
ever  since.  I  happened  to  meet  him  the  morning  I  started  out  with 
my  first  wheelbarrow  load.  He  seemed  pretty  glad  that  I  had  got  a 
place,  and  I  just  up  and  told  him  it  was  far  from  being  the  kind  of 
place  I  wanted.    He  said  it  would  do  first  rate  for  starting  place.    Then 


306  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

he  laughed  and  said  it  was  a  fact  that  a  boy  could  start  in  a  grocery 
store  and  go  to  any  place  in  the  world." 

"I  believe  that  I  will  be*  proud  of  you  someday,  Robbie,"  said 
Sarah  Elizabeth,  looking  up  at  her  tall  brother.  "You  are  worth  a 
dozen  of  me.  There.  I  believe  Mr.  Dilworth  is  coming  for  his  break- 
fast, and  I  haven't  even  ground  the  coffee." 

Then  their  mother  came  out,  and  the  little  council  gave  way  to  the 
busy  bustle  of  preparing  a  boarding  house  breakfast. 

Robert  was  soon  on  his  way  to  the  grocery  store,  and  Sarah 
Elizabeth  was  left  in  the  thick  of  the  dish-washing. 

What  Robert  had  said  about  the  grocery  being  a  starting  place 
seemed  to  take  hold  of  her  in  a  peculiar  way. 

"This  old  kitchen  is  my  starting  place,"  she  said  to  herself.  "I 
don't  ever  get  any  farther  than  to  the  dining  room  and  then  I  have  to 
trot  right  back  after  something,"  she  laughed. 

"How  pretty  and  clear  that  goblet  looks.  This  new  soap  must 
be  a  better  kind  than  we  have  been  getting.  I  believe  Til  wash  up  all 
tlie  glasses." 

She  took  them  all  down  from  the  top  shelf  of  the  cupboard  and 
scrubbed  and  rinsed  until  they  sparkled  almost  like  real  cut  glass  in 
the  sunshine. 

She  called  her  mother  to  see  in  childish  enthusiasm.  "Look  at 
the  glasses,  mamma.  We  will  never  buy  any  other  kind  of  soap,  will 
we?" 

"Are  you  sure  it  is  the  soap?"  asked  her  mother,  with  almost  her 
old  time  smile.  "Fm  so  glad  to  see  you  taking  an  interest  in  the 
housekeeping,  little  girl.  You  don't  know  how  proud  I  am  of  you  and 
Robert,  to  see  you  so  bravely  taking  up  father's  part  of  the  burden  with 
me.  If  father  could  have  stayed  with  us  just  a  little  longer,  everything 
would  have  been  different.  It  seems  such  a  strange,  hard  time  for  him 
tb  be  called  away — just  starting  in  a  new  place,  and  you  and  Robert 
not  grown  up.  As  it  is,  you  will  both  have  to  work  out  for  yourselves 
a  good  many  things  we  meant  to  do  for  you." 

Sarah  Elizabeth  had  not  heard  her  mother  speak  so  calmly  and 
hopefully  since  they  had  begun  alone  to  keep  their  home  in  the  little 
western  town  whither  the  high  school  had  attracted  them  from  the 
prairie  two  years  before. 

"Robert  is  behaving  like  a  hero,  but  I  haven't  done  anything — 
only  because  I  must,''  said  Sarah  Elizabeth,  honestly.  "If  I  could  only 
do  something  I  like  to  do,  I'd  work  till  I  dropped.  But  there's  no  money 
in  pen-and-ink  drawings  or  water-color  landscapes — not  for  me — at 
least,  not  yet.  And  I  just  hate  keeping  a  boarding  house.  That  is,  I 
did  hate  it  awfully  till  this  morning  Robert  said  something  that  made 
me  think  maybe  I  could  get  to  liking  it  a  little.  It's  been  very  good  of 
you,  mamma,  to  let  me  have  all  of  Mr.  Dilworth's  breakfast  money  for 
my  own.  I  haven't  deserved  a  cent  of  it — such  dreadful  meals  as  I  have 
been  making  him  put  up  with.     It's  a  wonder  he  hasn't  changed  his 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  307 

boarding  house.     But  he's  too  absent-minded  to  notice  anything  or 
complain." 

As  soon  as  Mrs.  Cameron  opened  her  boarding  house  the  chief 
merchant  of  the  town  began  taking  his  breakfast  there  because  he 
liked  it  early,  and  Miss  Tryphena,  his  self-willed  sister,  liked  hers  late. 
The  little  boarding  house  afforded  an  excellent  means  for  a  comprom- 
ise. 

Perhaps  even  her  mother  did  not  quite  understand  how  much 
Sarah  Elizabeth  had  given  up.  The  school  had  opened  a  new  worlcl 
to  her.  How  many  things  her  little  sun-browned  fingers  had  learned 
to  do  in  those  two  years !  They  had  learned  to  embroider  and  to  draw 
and  to  paint  wonderful  pictures.  Somehow  Sarah  Elizabeth  did  not 
know  it  before,  but  it  seemed  that  her  fingers  had  just  been  aching 
all  of  their  fifteen  years  to  draw  pictures  and  to  embroider  and  make 
pretty  things. 

Miss  DeLaney  said  she  took  to  art  like  a  young  duck  takes  to 
water.  And  Sarah  Elizabeth  had  begun  to  have  dim  dreams  of  a  far- 
off  time  when  she  herself  might  be  a  teacher  like  Miss  DeLaney.  But 
that  was  before  they  begun  keeping  a  boarding  house.  Now  she  had 
no  time  for  dreaming. 

"I  have  begun,  Robert,"  said  his  little  sister  that  evening  when  the 
day's  work  was  over.  "Don't  you  thinl  the  table  looked  nicer  today? 
You  understand — Vm  going  to  take  the  table  for  my  starting  place. 
I'm  going  to  make  it  look  just  as  pretty  as  I  can.  I  got  along  a  lot 
better  with  my  work  today,  and  this  afternoon  I  had  a  whole  hour 
to  do  as  I  pleased  and  I  commenced  to  embroider  a  centerpiece  for  the 
table — natural  violets  and  green  leaves." 

Of  course  old  Mr.  Dilworth  had  his  mind  on  his  business  and  took 
no  notice  of  the  change  in  the  style  of  his  breakfasts.  And  the  others — 
the  men  who  worked  out  in  the  mines — were  always  in  a  hurry,  and 
very  often  they  forgot  and  put  their  elbows  on  th^  clean,  white  cloth. 
Sarah  Elizabeth  would  not  have  minded  if  their  elbows  had  always  been 
clean.    But  she  never  gave  up. 

"I  appreciate  myself  better  since  I  have  been  doing  my  best,"  she 
said  to  Robert  one  day  .  "I  can  put  the  best  of  me  into  setting  the  table, 
and  it  kind  of  takes  the  place  of  the  modeling  and  embroidering  and 
drawing  out  at  the  schoolhouse.  "I  think  about  how  pretty  I'm  going 
to  fix  the  table  all  the  time  I'm  working  in  the  kitchen  and  I  don\ 
mind  the  work  so  much." 

Autumn  was  beginning  to  come  on.  It  was  the  day  school  opened. 
Sarah  Elizabeth  was  trying  not  to  think  of  Miss  DeLaney  and  Professor 
Jim  and  the  others,  by  putting  her  whole  soul  into  Mr.  Dilwortfe 
breakfast.  She  was  bending  over  the  table  arranging  the  things  with 
extra  care,  when  looking  up  she  saw  the  old  merchant  standing  in  .the 
doorway. 

"I  thought  I'd  slip  in  a  little  ahead  of  time  this  morning  and  see 
if  I  could  find  out  who  it  is  that  manages  the  arrangement  of  this 
table,"  he  began,  humorously. 


308  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

^  **I  was  pretty  certain  all  the  time  it  was  you — ^now  I've  caught 
you  at  it,"  he  laughed.  "My  new  fall  goods  have  come  in,  and  I  just 
happened  to  think  that  a  girl  who  could  fix  up  a  table  to  look  so  fancy 
would  be  a  good  hand  to  fix  up  a  show-window  in  the  store.  None  of 
our  firm  is  much  artistic.  I  believe  it  would  draw  custom  right  along 
to  have  a  catchy  front  window  display.  Ask  your  mother  if  you  can't 
come  over  to  the  store  this  afternoon  and  boss  the  job." 

"Oh !"  exlaimed  Sarah  Elizabeth,  "Fd  like  to  do  it." 

She  told  her  mother  all  about  it,  in  broken  snatches,  as  she  went 
back  and  forth  from  the  kitchen  to  the  dining  room. 

•  "Who  would  have  thought  Mr.  Dilworth  ever  took  any  notice  of 
the  way  I  fixed  the  table !  Won't  it  be  grand  to  work  in  the  Bee  Hive ! 
Fd  like  to  do  that  almost  as  well  as  to  be  a  teacher." 

Sarah  Elizabeth  never  dreamed  of  having  an  opportunity  to  work 
in  the  store  for  a  longer  time  than  that  one  afternoon.  But  when  the 
new  things  were  arranged  in  the  window  with  an  artistic  touch  that 
had  never  distinguished  the  Bee  Hive  before,  and  she  stood  with  Mr. 
Dilworth  in  the  twilight,  noting  the  effect  from  across  the  street,  the 
pld  man  said  abruptly:  "H  you'd  like  steady  work  in  the  store,  we 
could  make  a  place  for  you." 

"Oh !  Fd  like  it,"  said  Sarah  Elizabeth  at  once.  It  was  the  thought 
of  being  free  from  the  kitchen,  not  of  earning  money  that  made  her 
eyes  glow.  "Fd  like  to  do  it,"  said  Sarah  Elizabeth,  and  then  she 
caught  her  breath  hard.  "But  I  couldn't  think  of  leaving  mamma  all 
the  kitchen  work  to  do."  she  added,  seriously. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Dilworth,  wouldn't  you  take  Robert?  He'd  do  a  great 
deal  better  than  I  and — and  he'd  like  it." 

"Might  give  the  boy  a  trial,"  said  Mr.  Dliworth.  "We'll  need  an 
extra  hand  when  the  fall  rush  comes  on,  and  Robert's  a  peart  young 
fellow.    I'll  speak  to  him  about  it." 

"I  do  hope  he  won't  tell  Robert  he  offered  me  the  place  first,"  said 
Sarah  Elizabeth,  as  she  went  hurrying  home.  "Robert  is  so  proud, 
maybe  he  wouldn't  take  it.  Oh.  Fd  so  much  rather  he'd  have  it.  I  won't 
mind  the  kitchen  work." 

"Hi,  Sa'h  Lizzie!"  he  exclaimed,  bursting  into  the  kitchen  one 
morning,  with  glowing  eyes,  "get  your  books  ready !  You're  going  to 
school  in  the  morning." 

"I  believe  you  have  gone  crazy,  Robert  Cameron,"  said  Sarah 
Elizabeth. 

"No,  I  haven't,"  said  Robert,  "but  I  have  been  offered  a  place  at 
the  Bee  Hive  at  three  times  as  much  as  I've  been  getting,  and  you're 
going  back  to  school,  Sa'h  Lizzie." 

"Oh !  Robert,"  said  Sarah  Elizabeth,  "it  was  true  what  you  said 
about  the  starting  place." 


SPRING  AND  SUMMER. 

Spring  is  growing  up. 

Is  it  not  a  pity? 
Slie  was  such  a  little  thing, 

And  so  very  pretty. 
Summer  is  extremely  grand. 

We  must  pay  her  duty ; 
But  it  is  to  little  Spring 

That  she  owes  her  beauty ! 

Spring  is  growing  up. 

Leaving  us  so  lonely ; 
In  the  place  of  little  Spring 

We  have  Summer  only ! 
Summer  with  her  lofty  airs, 

And  her  stately  paces ; 
In  the  place  of  little  Spring, 

With  her  childish  graces. 


A  MAY-DAY  MUSICALE. 


WHAT  THKV  LOST. 

(Original. ) 
"I'm  sorry  you  lost  it,"  .«aid  mother,  one  day, 
.'\s  she  sat  in  her  corner  chair,  mending  away ; 
And  Richard  and  Percival  looked  in  surprise. 
But  mother,  still  busy,  did  not  raise  her  eyes. 

"Have  you  lost  anything,  Richard,  to-day  ?" 
"No,  Percival.     Haven't  you.  either? — I  say!" 
Two  little  faces  grew  rosy  with  shame. 
And  mother  said,  "Yes,  my  dears !  tcm['er's  its  n 


310  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


IN  CHLOE'S  CHARIOT. 

BY   JULIA.  DARROW    COWLES. 

"Look,  Jessie,  Look!" 

Jack  pointed  up  the  street  and  then  doubled  up  with  laughter. 

Jessie  looked,  and  then  laughed,  too.  "Why,  it's  Chloe  Johnson," 
she  said,  "but  what  has  she  in  the — in  the" — 

"In  the  chariot,"  finished  Jack,  and  then  they  both  laughed  again. 

Chloe — a  small  girl  whose  kinky  hair  was  braided  in  tight,  little 
pigtails  which  stood  straight  out — came  slowly  down  the  street.  She 
was  carefully  pushing  before  her,  a  queer,  old  baby  buggy  with  swans- 
heads  at  the  front,  and  scarred  patches  of  gold  and  silver  paint  still 
decorating  its  sides. 

"What  have  you  in  the  chariot?"  asked  Jack,  as  Chloe  came  near- 
er. 

At  the  same  moment  Jessie  discovered  that  Chloe  was  crying,  and^ 
so  was  Moses,  the  small  brother  at  her  heels. 

"What's  the  matter,  Chloe,"  she  asked,  tiptoeing  up  and  peering 
over  the  edge  of  the  buggy. 

"The  horses  ran  over  Snip,  and  we're  taking  him  to  Doctor 
Lyford's,"  answered  Chloe  between  sobs.  And  at  that,  Moses  dug 
his  fists  into  his  eyes  and  cried  harder  than  ever. 

Jack  and  Jessie  looked  at  each  other  as  the  funny  procession 
passed  on. 

"What  will  Uncle  Frank  say?"  exclaimed  Jessie.  Uncle  Frank 
was  Doctor  Lyford. 

"I  guess  he'll  laugh,  too,"  said  Jack. 

Then  the  two  children  looked  at  each  other  again. 

"Chloe  felt  badly  about  it,"  said  Jessie. 

"Yes,  and  so  did  Moses,"  responded  Jack.  "Is'pose  they  think 
a  lot  of  the  dog  if  it  is  only  a  common  cur."  Jack's  Bruno  was  a 
full-blooded  Saint  Bernard. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence. 
'S'pose  it  had  been  Bruno,"  said  Jessie. 
'Oh,  my !"  said  Jack. 

Once  more  the  children  looked  into  each  other's  eyes. 

"Let's  run  down  the  allev  to  Uncle  Frank's  office  and  tell  him 
how  they  feel  about  the  dog,"  suggested  Jack.  "We  can  get  there 
first." 

"Let's,"  said  Jessie,  and  taking  hold  of  hands  they  sped  away. 

When  Chloe  reached  Doctor  Lyford's  office  she  was  very  much 
surprised  to  see  Jack  and  Jessie  there  ahead  of  her.  But  when  Doctor 
Lyford  began  to  ask  her  questions  and  to  smile  encouragingly  at  her, 
she  forgot  all  about  them  in  her  interest  in  Snip. 

Then  Doctor  Lyford  gently  took  up  the  limp  little  dog  in  his  hands 
and  Chloe  checked  her  sobs  as  she  watched  him. 


in 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  311 

"Well,  the  little  fellow  has  a  broken  leg,  all  right,"  he  said  after  a 
brief  examination,  "but  TU  put  it  in  a  splint  and  hell  soon  be  as  good 
as  ever." 

"Oh-h!"  exclaimed  Chloe  with  sparkling  eyes,  while  Moses  took 
down  his  fists  and  began  to  smile. 

Then  all  four  of  the  children  watched  anxiously,  but  eagerly,  while 
Doctor  Lyford  set  and  bandaged  the  broken  leg,  and  the  poor  little 
dog  licked  the  doctor's  hand  in  gratitude. 

When  it  was  all  over,  Chloe  laid  Snip  tenderly  back  in  the  "chari- 
ot" and  then,  followed  by  Moses,  she  trundled  him  away. 

"Oh,  my,  but  you're  good,"  she  said  fervently,  as  they  reached  the 
door;  and  Moses  gave  the  doctor  a  dazzling  smile. 

The  doctor  felt  a  pull  at  his  sleeve. 

"I  guess  she  didn't  have  any  money  to  pay  you.  Uncle  Frank," 
said  Jack,  "but  Jessie  and  I  have  quite  a  lot  in  our  banks  and  you  may 
have  it  all." 

"That's  good  of  you,"  said  the  doctor,  "but  Chloe  paid  me  in  the 
only  coin  I  want.  You  know,  it  always  pays  to  be  able  to  give  cheer 
and  happiness  to  others." 


WHOSE  FAULT  WAS  IT? 

It  was  a  beautiful  June  day.  Not  even  a  tiny  cloud  could  be  seen 
upon  the  broad  expanse  of  blue  sky  that  Mrs.  Ward's  eyes  scanned 
as  she  glanced  out  of  her  wide-open  kitchen  window. 

The  little  cottage  yard  was  a  pleasant  sight  to  look  upon  this  bright 
Summer  day.  Along  the  walk  extended  two  long,  narrow  flower-beds, 
gay  with  many-tinted  flowers,  while  beyond  them  stretched  two  broad 
squares  of  soft  green  that  terminated  at  the  edge  of  a  well-kept  vege- 
table garden. 

On  the  shady  porch,  Duke,  the  children's  dog,  was  stretched  out 
with  his  head  upon  his  paws,  too  comfortable  and  lazy  to  move,  while 
under  the  lilac  bush  the  big  gray  cat  was  taking  its  ease. 

Everything  seemed  to  be  as  peaceful  and  as  cheerful  as  the  day 

itself,  that  is,  everything  and  everybody  except  the  little  girl  swinging 
slowly  back  and  forth  in  the  hammock  under  the  maple  tree  not  far 
from  the  porch.  There  was  nothing  disagreeable  to  the  eye  in  the  little 
figure  itself.  The  face  was  very  fair  to  look  upon.  A  mass  of  soft 
brown  curls  fell  far  below  her  shoulders,  and  shaded  a  delicately-feat- 
ured face  that  would  have  been  pretty  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  ugly 
pout  that  disfigured  the  red  lips,  and  the  disagreeable  frown  that  marred 
her  forehead. 

Little  Miss  Eleanor  Ward  was  not  enjoying  the  day  at  all.  She  had 
felt  quite  independent  when  she  had  seen  the  party  of  children  start 
oflF  with  their  lunch-baskets  without  her.    It  was  with  quite  an  air  that 


312  IHE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Eleanor  had  told  her  cousin  Tom  when  he  had  tried  to  coax  her  to 
join  them  that  it  was  "lovely  and  cool"  under  the  maple  tree. 

That  was  two  hours  ago.  It  was  ten  o'clock  now,  and  although 
it  was  as  cool  and  pleasant  as  ever  in  the  comfortable  hammock, 
Eleanor  was  not  enjoying  it  very  much.  For  one  thing,  it  was  rather 
lonesome.  She  could  imagine  what  the  children  were  doing.  They 
were  having  a  jolly  tirne — ^no  doubt  of  that — and  soon  they  would  be 
eating  their  lunch.  Eleanor  knew  what  a  lot  of  good  things  her  mother 
had  packed  into  the  lunch  baskets.  Her  brother  Rob  had  carried  a  big 
bag  of  fruit,  and  her  cousin  Tom  had  a  fine  box  of  candy.  She  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  the  chocolates  that  she  was  so  fond  of  when  Tom 
had  given  her  a  peep  at  the  box,  as  an  inducement  to  join  the  party. 

Eleanor  was  thinking  it  over  now.  She  knew  how  they  would 
enjoy  the  day  in  the  woods,  and  come  home  late  in  the  afternoon, 
laden  with  flowers  and  beautiful  ferns. 

It  was  all  Maud's  fault  that  she  was  sitting  at  home  alone,  Eleanor 
decided,  as  she  thought  the  matter  over.  What  right  had  Maud  to  call 
her  a  "cross-patch,"  and,  meaner  still,  to  call  her  a  "tattle-tale,"  just  be- 
cause she  had  told  Tom  how  mean  Maud  was.  Maud  had  said  she  was 
sorry,  and  had  tried  to  coax  her  to  join  the  rest  of  the  children  in  the 
little  trip,  but  Eleanor  was  not  in  the  humor  to  make  up  the  quarrel. 

Of  course  she  was  not  sorry  that  she  had  not  gone  with  the  rest. 
Still,  it  was  rather  lonesome  sitting  there  alone. 

The  hammock  stopped  its  slow  swinging.  A  happy  thought  had 
come  to  Eleanor.  She  would  take  a  walk  by  herself,  and  gather 
daises  in  the  field  down  the  road. 

The  little  black-slippered  feet  trotted  quickly  up  to  the  porch,  and 
the  curly  brown  head  popped  into  the  kitchen  window,  and  an  eager 
voice  implored  Mrs.  Ward's  permission  to  go  to  the  daisy  field. 

Mrs.  Ward  smiled  down  into  the  small  face  lifted  to  hers.  "Yes, 
you  may  go,"  she  said,  "but  don't  go  near  the  brook  and  get  wet." 

Eleanor  had  caught  sight  of  the  cakes  that  her  mother  had  baked. 
"Can't  I  have  a  cake,  mamma?"  she  asked. 

"Take  a  few  of  them  and  run  along,"  said  her  mother;  "that's 
a  good  girl." 

Eleanor  walked  briskly  along  the  road,  until  she  reached  the  field 
of  daises.  She  had  a  good  time  gathering  the  blossoms.  Finally,  seat- 
ing herself  on  the  ground,  she  began  to  weave  a  daisy  chain.  It  was 
a  very  pleasant  spot.  The  ground  sloped  gently  away  from  her  feet 
to  the  little  brook  at  the  bottom  of  the  field. 

Eleanor  sat  quite  contentedly  for  a  while.  She  decided  that  it 
was  nicer  than  the  hammock  after  all. 

Everything  was  very  fine  indeed,  until  Eleanor  spied  a  blue  flower 
quite  far  down  the  field.  She  tossed  aside  the  daises,  and  ran  towards 
the  flower.  But  before  she  reached  the  blossoms  she  found  the  ground 
quite  wet.  Eleanor  paused  a  moment  as  she  remembered  that  her 
mother  had  told  her  not  to  get  wet.     She  knew  that  she  ought  to  go 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  313 

back,  but  the  flower  seemed  such  a  beautiful  blue,  much  prettier  than  the 
daises,  she  thought. 

Eleanor  lifted  one  foot,  and  felt  her  slipper.  "It  isn't  real  wet,  just 
a  little  damp,"  she  said  to  herself.  The  next  moment  she  was  running 
towards  the  flowers,  her  brown  curls  streaming  in  the  air.  She  came 
to  a  standstill  with  a  sudden  jerk,  one  foot  ankle  deep  in  mud.  She 
had  almost  landed  in  the  brook,  in  the  middle  of  which  nodded  the 
tall  blue  flower  that  she  coveted.  Eleanor  looked  sadly  at  the  wet  foot. 
"Dear  me !"  she  said,  "and  mamma  told  me  not  to  get  wet !" 

But  as  long  as  the  mischief  was  done,  Eleanor  thought  that  she 
might  as  well  get  the  flower.  She  looked  about  for  some  means  of 
reaching  it,  though  not  without  some  qualms  of  conscience,  as  she  re- 
membered her  mother's  dislike  to  have  her  near  the  brook.  The  flower 
was  very  provoking,  so  near,  and  yet  just  out  of  reach. 

On  Eleanor's  side  of  the  brook  there  was  nothing  to  which  she 
could  cling  as  she  reached  out  for  the  flower,  but  on  the  other  side  a 
large  branch  of  a  tree  hung  down  over  the  edge  of  the  water. 

Eleanor  ran  along  the  bank  until  she  found  a  narrow  place  where 
someone  had  bridged  the  little  stream  with  a  plank.  With  a  cry  of 
delight,  she  crossed  the  plank,  and  made  her  way  to  the  tree  opposite 
the  longed-for  flower.  Planting  her  feet  firmly  she  grasped  the  branch, 
and  leaned  over  the  water  to  pluck  the  blossom. 

Just  as  her  fingers  touched  it  there  came  a  snap  of  breaking  wood, 
as  the  rotten  branch  gave  way,  and  plunged  Eleanor  headlong  into  the 
water  below  her. 

It  was  a  disconsolate  enough  little  figure  that  emerged,  spluttering 
and  floundering,  from  her  involuntary  bath.  The  water  was  only  waist- 
deep,  but  she  had  fallen  in  full  length,  and  managed  to  drench  herself 
from  head  to  foot.  She  climbed  up  the  bank  with  some  difficulty,  hin- 
dered by  her  wet  clothing,  and  sadly  started  for  home. 

Mrs.  Ward  came  quickly  to  the  door  as  the  sound  of  a  distressed 
voice  calling,  "Mamma !"  fell  upon  her  ear.  A  look  of  utter  astonish- 
ment came  upon  her  face  as  she  looked  at  the  figure  before  her.  The 
pink  dress,  heavy  with  its  weight  of  mingled  mud  and  water,  clung 
limply  to  its  forlorn  wearer,  while  tiny  streams  of  water  trailed  in  the 
wake  of  her  foot-steps.  A  splash  of  mud  adorned  one  red  cheek,  and 
the  whole  countenance  bore  a  grimy  aspect,  occasioned  by  the  frequent 
application  of  small  soiled  hands  to  wipe  away  the  trickling  tears. 

"She  was  a  phantom  of  delight  when  first  she  burst  upon  my 
sight!"  chanted  papa  wickedly  as  he  glanced  over  mamma's  shoulder 
at  the  small  girl. 

"Don't  laugh  at  her,  John,"  said  Mrs.  Ward.  "She  is  too  naughty ! 
ril  have  to  strip  her  now,  and  put  her  to  bed.  Even  if  it  is  warm,  she 
may  take  cold !" 

Poor  Eleanor!  It  was  hard  to  lie  in  bed  that  bright  afternoon. 
Mamma  had  rubbed  her  well  and  tucked  her  into  bed.  Then  she 
had  made  her  appearance  with  a  howl  of  steaming  hot  herb  tea.     In 


314  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

vain  Eleanor  protested  that  she  was  not  cold,  and  would  not  take  any 
of  the  "stuff."  She  had  to  drink  the  bitter  dose. 

The  little  girl  found  it  very  tiresome  lying  there.  The  hours 
slipped  slowly  away.  She  checked  them  off,  one  by  one.  Five  o'clock 
came,  and  she  heard  the  picnic  party  come  laughing  into  the  hall.  The 
sound  of  Maud's  voice  speaking  cheerfully  to  her  sister  penetrated 
to  Eleanor's  room,  and  she  heard  Tom  calling  loudly  for  "Eleanor!" 
She  could  not  catch  her  mother's  quiet  answer,  but  she  could  fancy 
the  look  on  her  cousin's  face.  Eleanor  was  very  fond  of  her  cousin 
Tom,  but  for  all  that  she  knew  how  he  could  tease. 

The  house  became  quiet  as  the  children  scattered.  Eleanor's  eye- 
lids closed  over  the  tired  eyes,  and  the  little  girl  soon  forgot  her 
troubles  in  sleep. 

An  hour  or  two  later  she  opened  her  eyes  to  find  her  mother  sitting 
by  her  side.  She  knew  that  mother  had  come  for  a  talk  with  her. 
Eleanor  dreaded  these  quiet  talks ;  she  didn't  Hke  to  see  the  grieved 
look  in  mother's  eyes. 

"It's  been  a  horrid  day,  mamma,"  she  sobbed.  "And  it's  all 
Maud's  fault !  If  she  had  been  nice  to  me  I  would  have  gone  on  the 
picnic,  and  then  I  wouldn't  have  fallen  into  the  brook." 

"If  you  had  made  friends  with  Maud  when  she  told  you  that 
she  was  sorry  you  would  have  had  a  pleasant  day  with  the  rest,"  re- 
plied her  mother.  ** Besides,  Maud  didn't  make  you  disobey  and  go  to 
the  brook.  My  little  girl  is  getting  a  mean  fashion  of  putting  her  own 
naughtiness  on  someone  else's  shoulders." 

"Well,"  said  Eleanor,  "she  called  me  a  'cross-patch,'  and  a  'tattle- 
tale,'  and  I  just  wouldn't  make  up  with  her." 

•  "Perhaps  it  was  true,"  said  Mrs.  Ward,  gently.  "And  even  if  it 
wasn't  true,  it  takes  two  to  make  a  quarrel,  little  girl.  Don't  you  re- 
member your  golden  text?    What  was  it  last  Sunday,  Eleanor?" 

Eleanor's  face  flushed  a  little.  "  'A  soft  answer  turneth  away 
w^ath :  but  grevious  words  stir  up  anger,'  "  she  finally  quoted. 

'  "Ah!"  said  Mrs.  Ward.  "Don't  ypu  think  that  if  when  Maud 
allied  you  names  you  had  said  something  kind  in  reply,  she  would 
have  dropped  the  quarrel?" 

No  answer  came  from  Eleanor. 

"I  think  that  she  would  have  willingly  done  so,"  said  Mrs.  Ward. 
"Are  you  sure  that  it  was  not  true,  Eleanor?  Why  did  Maud  call  you 
a  'cross-patch  ?'  " 

"Just  because  I  snatched  my  big  doll  away  from  her  and  made  her 
take  my  little  one.    Maud  is  awful  selfish,  I  think,"  said  Eleanor. 

"Someone  else  is  selfish,  I  think,"  said  mamma.  "You  have  your 
doll  all  the  time,  and  were  not  willing  to  let  Maud  have  her  for  a 
little  whil(*.  even  though  Maud  was  your  'company.'  Why,  Eleanor! 
T  fancv  llint  you  said  something  cross  to  Maud?" 

"I  told  her  that  she  was  a  hateful,  greedy  old  thing,"  said  Eleanor, 
rcluctantlv.  "And  iust  because  I  told  Tom  how  mean  she  was,  Maud 
cilled  me'a  'tattle-tale.' " 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  315 

''What  else  was  my  little  girl?"  asked  Mrs.  Ward.  "A  'tattle- 
tale*  is  one  who  carries  a  tale  of  one  person  to  another.  You  carried 
a  tale  of  Maud's  meanness  to  Tom.  IMd  you  tell  Tom  what  you  called 
Maud?" 

"No,  mamma/*  said  Eleanor  slowly. 

"Wasn't  that  rather  mean,  little  woman?" 

"I  didn't  think  of  it,  mamma,"  replied  Eleanor. 

"That's  just  it,"  said  Mrs.  Ward.  "You  were  too  busy  thinking 
of  Maud's  faults  to  spare  time  to  think  of  your  own. 

"I  think  that  the  wrong-doing  in  this  case  belongs  mostly  to  my 
little  girl,"  added  Mrs.  Ward.  "You  were  selfish  and  rude  to  Maud, 
and  then,  because  she  told  you  the  truth  about  yourself,  you  got 
angry.  Even  to-day  when  she  came  and  told  you  that  she  was  sorry 
for  what  she  said  to  you — which  was  only  the  truth — ^you  refused  to 
forgive  her,  and  join  them  in  the  picnic,  but  decided  to  remain  at  home. 
Then  when  you  disobeyed  me  and  came  to  grief,  you  were  unkind 
enough  to  blame  Maud  for  your  own  wrong-doing.  If  you  had. not 
been  unkind  to  her  in  the  beginning  there  would  have  been  no  quarrel. 
Even  this  morning,  if  you  had  met  Maud's  advances  pleasantly,  all 
would  have  been  well,  and  you  would  have  had  a  happy  day  with  the 
rest  of  the  children." 

"It  doesn't  sound  nice  the  way  that  you  say  it,  mamma,"  saio 
Eleanor.    "But  it  didn't  seem  that  way  to  me." 

"Of  course  not,"  said  her  mother.  "You  see,  little  one,  the 
devil  has  a  strange  sort  of  glass  which  he  gets  people  to  look  through, 
and  when  one  looks  through  that  glass  she  sees  her  neighbor's  faults 
as  very  big  and  ugly  indeed,  while  her  own  appear  as  very  small, 
scarcely  worthy  of  notice.     That  glass  of  his  deceives  many  people. 

"There  is  a  better  Guide  than  that  deceptive  glass  to  go  by — Jesus. 
Do  you  thing  that  when  He  was  a  little  child  He  was  selfish  and  un- 
kind to  the  children  about  Him?  He  was  a  little  child,  you,  know, 
Eleanor,  growing  up  in  His  parent's  home." 

"Why,  no,  of  course.  He  wasn't  selfish,"  said  Eleanor. 

"Suppose  that  He  had  been  a  little  girl  like  you,  Eleanor,  would 
He  have  treated  Maud  just  as  my  little  daughter  did?  Be  honest  little 
one.    Do  you  think  He  would?" 

"No,  He  would  have  been  very  different,"  said  Eleanor.  "But  I 
hadn't  thought  about  it." 

"That  is  just  the  trouble  with  lots  of  people,"  said  mother.  "They 
forget  to  carry  the  thoughts  of  Sunday  into  the  acts  of  Monday, 
Tuesday,  and  the  other  days  of  the  week.  Do  you  understand  what  I 
mean.  Eleanor?" 

"I  think  I  do,  mamma,"  Eleanor  replied. 

"I  heard  you  singing  'Scatter  blessed  sunshine/  this  morning," 
said  Mrs.  Ward.    "It  was  only  an  idle  song,  wasn't  it,  Eleanor?" 

"I'm  afraid  it  was,"  said  Eleanor,  soberly.  "I  am  sorry,  and 
indeed  I  will  try  not  to  be  selfish." 


316  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


a* 


That  is  right,"  said  her  mother,  kissing  her.  "I  am  glad  that 
you  know  where  to  go  for  help.    He  will  always  help  us,  Eleanor." 

Eleanor  kept  her  promise.  She  found  it  rather  hard  sometimes  not 
to  try  to  take  all  the  best  things  for  herself,  and  sometimes  the  cross 
words  came  out  instead  of  the  pleasant  ones.  She  was  in  earnest, 
though,  and  she  found  that  each  victory  gained  seemed  to  make  it  a 
little  easier  to  gain  victory  in  the  next  battle  with  temptation. 


MARJORIE'S  LESSON. 

Marjorie  came  rushing  into  her  mother*s  room  to  tell  her 
about  the  lovely  time  she  had  been  having  at  Phylis*  home  all  that 
afternoon. 

*'Vm  glad  you  had  a  good  time,  dear,"  said  her  mother.  "Now, 
I  wonder  if  you  can  help  me  solve  a  mystery?" 

"Marjorie's  eyes  opened  wide  at  this. 

"I  think,"  went  on  her  mother  gravely,  "that  a  very  wicked  and 
careless  fairy  has  been  in  my  room  this  afternoon.  When  I  came  in 
from  calling  I  found  that  some  little  spirit  had  been  rumpling  up  the 
ribbons  in  my  bureau  drawer,  had  been  throwing  your  every-day  dress 
and  shoes  all  over  the  floor  in  my  room,  and  had  been  playing  havoc 
with  my  dressing  table.    Can  you  imagine  who  the  culprit  is  ?*' 

"Oh,"  said  Marjorie,  looking  crestfallen,  "I  dressed  in  your 
room.  I  like  your  glass — and  I  forget  to  pick  up  after  myself,  I 
was  in  such  a  hurry." 

"So  it  wasn't  a  fairy  after  all.  Well,  since  I  have  been  sitting 
here  wondering  what  would  be  the  most  effectual  punishment  for  the 
untidy  fairy  that  left  my  room  in  disorder,  I  have  had,  some  suggestions 
from  a  good  fairy,  and  I  am  wondering  if  the  punishment  this 
fairy  mentioned  would  help  you  to  be  more  tidy,  since  you  are  the 
culprit."  . 

"What  was  it?"  asked  Marjorie.  She  and  her  mother  often  played 
make-believe  with  the  fairies,  but  she  was  a  little  doubtful  about  its 
always  being  fun. 

"This  is  her  plan  and  I  have  decided  to  carry  it  out  until  you 
are  cured  of  all  your  untidiness.  Hereafter  when  you  mislay  a  thing  you 
will  not  be  able  to  find  it  again  unless  you  get  it  before  the  fairy  does. 
If  she  finds  it  first  she  will  keep  it,  and  you  may  find  it  very  incon- 
venient to  do  without  that  very  particular  thing." 

Marjorie  listened  carefully  to  the  plan,  then  she  tossed  her  curls 
and  said  with  decision,  while  her  brown  eyes  flashed:  "All  right,  but 
she'll  have  hard  work  to  catch  mc  mislaying  things,"  anc}  off  she  ran. 

It  was  an  interesting  game  to  elude  the  fairy  for  a  day  or  two, 
but  after  that  her  interest  began  to  flag. 

On  Sunday  morning  as  the  children  were  getting  ready  for  Sunday 
school  Marjorie  came  into  her  mother's  room. 


^  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  317 

"Mamma/"  said  she,  "did  I  leave  my  best  gloves  here  last  night?" 

"If  you  did,"  said  her  mother  quietly,  "I  fear  the  good  fairy 
has  found  them." 

Mar jorie  gave  her  mother  a  quick  glance  and  then  left  the  room 
without  a  word.  * 

That  day  she  wore  her  school  gloves  to  church,  and  she  fumed 
inwardly,  for  the  gloves  were  shabby  and  did  not  look  well  with  her  new 
hat  and  new  scarlet  reefer.  Marjorie  was  a  vain  little  body  and  liked 
to  be  well-dressed.  However,  she  kept  her  hands  in  her  pockets  as 
much  as  possible  and  vowed  to  herself  that  the  fairy  should  get  no 
more  of  her  things. 

It  was  only  the  next  afternoon  that  Marjorie  was  coming  out  of  her 
mother's  room  where  she  had  been  to  have  some  buttons  sewed  on  to 
the  shoes  which  she  carried  in  her  hand. 

The  sound  of  the  hand-organ  came  up  from  the  street  below.  Mar- 
jorie dropped  the  shoes  where  she  stood  and  ran  down  to  the  door. 
There  was  a  monkey  with  the  organ-grinder  and  Marjorie  stayed  a 
long  time  watching  him,  when  she  came  back  upstairs  her  shoes  had 
disappeared.  Marjorie  searched  for  them,  and  failing  to  find  them  went 
to  her  room  to  think  it  over.  It  would  not  have  mattered  so  much 
ordinarly,  but  now  her  other  shoes  had  been  taken  to  the  cobbler's, 
to  be  repaired  and  she  had  nothing  except  the  pair  of  slippers  she  had 
on  her  feet. 

The  next  morning,  just  before  school  time,  Marjorie  went  to  hen 
mother.    "Mamma,  what  shall  I  do?    I  can't  find  my  best  shoes." 

"Wear  your  other  ones,"  said  her  mother. 

"They're  at  the  cobbler's,"  explained  Marjorie. 

Mrs.  Chesborough  reflected  a  minute,  then  she  said  slowly,  "Well, 
I  don't  see  but  you  will  have  to  stay  home  until  they  are  mended." 

Marjorie  jumped  for  joy.  A  vacation  right  in  the  midst  of  school, 
year  was  what  she  dearly  loved.  Whenever  she  had  stayed  home  before' 
it  had  been  because  she  had  been  sick,  but  now  she  was  well,  what  fun 
she  would  have !    A  sudden  thought  struck  her. 

"May  I  go  outdoors,  mamma?"  she  asked. 

"Not  in  those  slippers,"  said  her  mother,  decidedly.  ^ 

It  was  a  subdued  little  girl  that  went  alone  into  her  room  to  play, 
with  her  dolls  till  lunch  time. 

When  Helen  came  home  at  noon  it  was  to  tell  of  an  interesting^ 
visitor  who  had  entertained  the  whole  school  in  assembly  with  acounts 
of  his  wonderful  adventures  in  Greenland.     Marjorie  thought  sorrow-^ 
fully  of  her  solitary  morning.    The  next  day  was  even  more  lonely  andj 
on  the  third  she, went  boldly  to  her  mother  and  asked  her  for  something^ 
to  do.    That  lady  gave  her  some  silk  rags  to  sew  for  a  portiere  she  was 
to  have  woven,  and  gay  little  Marjorie  sat  and  sewed  very  soberly  for 
hours  every  day  after  that.    Her  cup  of  sorrow  was  filled  to  overflowing 
when  Helen  came  home  on  Friday  with  a  note  from  the  mother  of  their 
most  particular  friend  at  school  inviting  children  to  go  to  the  circus^ 
with  her  children  and  herself  on  the  following  afternoon. 


318  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

**Oh,  I  can't  go,"  she  wailed  in  despair.  "I  have  no  shoes.  Oh, 
can't  Helen  go  over  to  the  cobbler's  to  see  if  my  other  shoes  are  mend- 
ed?" 

Her  mother  gave  her  the  permission,  and  while  Helen  was  gone, 
Marjorie  trembled  between  hope  and  despair. 

"No,  they  aren't  done,"  reported  Helen  when  she  came  in.  "He 
has  been  very  busy  and  says  that  Marjorie  said  he  needn't  hurry." 

"Oh,  so  I  did,"  wailed  Morjorie,  and  she  dashed  out  of  the  room, 
slamming  the  door  behind  her. 

For  a  ^yhole  week  after  that  she  was  very  careful  not  to  mislay 
anything  else,  and  though  she  was  not  entirely  cured  of  her  careless- 
ness, just  a  word  about  the  fairy  would  remind  her  of  the  discomfort 
of  the  time  when  the  fairy  seized  her  shoes. — 


A  DAUGHTER  WORTH  HAVING. 

BY  MRS.  P.  R.  BINFORD. 

Mary  Martin  danced  along  at  Miss  Ford's  side.  This  teacher  and 
pupn  were  very  fond  of  each  other,  and  Mary  poured  all  her  hopes 
and  ambitions  into  Miss  Ford's  ears.  This  afternoon  she  said :  "Miss 
Ford,  I  can  hardly  wait  to  be  through  school  and  go  to  teaching. 
Mamma  works  so  hard  now !  When  I  get  to  teaching,  she  shall  not 
work  another  day." 

Miss  Ford  smiled  at  the  girl's  enthusiasm.  Then  the  picture  of 
Mary's  tired  little  mother  came  into  her  mind.  She  sewed  for  a  living, 
and  Miss  Ford  remembered  how  weary  and  worn-out  she  always  looked. 
The  teacher  wondered  if  the  little  mother  would  live  until  Mary's 
plans  should  be  fulfilled.  All  at  once  she  turned  to  Mary  and  said: 
"Do  you  have  much  time  to  help  your  mother,  Mary?" 

'tJo,  Miss  Ford.  Mamma  has  me  take  an  hour's  recreation  after 
school  each  day.    Then  I  have  my  lessons  to  study,"  Mary  answered. 

Miss  Ford  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  she  said  softly: 
"Mary,  suppose  that  when  you  finish  school  and  begin  teaching  your 
little  mother  should  not  be  here?" 

Mary  turned  a  startled  face  toward  her  teacher.  "What  do  you 
4nean,  Miss  Ford  ?"  she  asked. 

"This  dear.  Your  mother  needs  now  some  of  the  rest  you  want 
to  give  her  in  the  future.  We  never  know  what  the  future  has  in  store 
for  us.  Help  her  all  you  can  in  the  present,  and  plan  and  wait  for 
the  future.  Here  we  are  at  your  gate.  Good-bye,  dear,"  she  said. 
She  put  a  hand  on  each  side  of  the  girl's  sweet  face  and  then  kissed  her. 

When  she  had  gone,  Mnry  went  slowly  into  the  house.  In  the 
sitting  room  her  mother  bent  over  her  sewing.  She  looked  up  with  a 
smile  when  Mary  entered  the  room.  She  looked  so  tired,  and  put  her 
hand  up  to  her  forehead  for  a  second. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  319 

**Are  you  feeling  bad,  mother?"   Mary  questioned. 

"My  head  aches.  I  have  bent  over  my  sewing  so  constantly  to-day. 
I  am  in  a  hurry  to  finish  Mrs.  Brown's  dress.  Put  down  your  books, 
dear,  and  go  for  a  walk.  You  need  it  after  being  in  the  house  all  day," 
Mrs.  Martin  answered. 

Mary  went  over  to  her  and  put  her  hand  gently  on  her  mother's 
head.    "What  are  you  going  to  do,  mother?'*  she  asked. 

"I  will  sew  as  long  as  I  can.  Then  I  must  get  in  the  coal  and 
kindling  and  get  supper.    What  do  you  want  for  supper  ?" 

"Let  me  see,"  said  Mary.  The  sweet  face  grew  serious.  Then 
she  clapped  her  hands,  and  her  face  grew  brighter.  "Let's  have  chipped 
potatoes,  broiled  ham  and  toast !"  she  exclaimed.  Now  she  had  chosen 
the  three  things  she  could  cook,  and  she  had  a  very  wise  look  on  her 
face  when  she  left  the  room  a  moment  later.  "By-by,  mamma ;  Til  be 
back  soon,"  she  said,  and  closed  the  door  carefully  behind  her. 

Mrs.  Martin  thought  she  had  gone  for  a  walk,  and  leaned  wearily 
over  her  sewing.  After  a  little  while  she  glanced  at  the  clock  and 
put  down  her  work.  "Mary  is  staying  longer  than  usual.  I  will 
hurry  supper  and  have  it  ready  when  she  returns,"  she  thought. 

As  she  went  through  the  house  to  the  kitchen,  she  wondered 
how  every  door  came  to  be  closed.  When  she  opened  the  kitchen  door, 
an  unusual  sight  met  her  eyes.  The  fire  was  roaring  in  the  stove, 
and  the  scent  of  the  cooking  food  filled  the  room.  Mary  stood  by  the 
stove.  Her  cheeks  were  as  red  as  roses  and  her  eyes  were  dancing. 
"Come  in.  Til  soon  have  supper  ready.  The  coal  and  kindling  are 
in,"  she  said. 

"Why,  didn't  you  go  for  a  walk?"  gasped  Mrs.  Martin.      '        * 

"No,  mamma.  I  think  you  need  me  at  home  every  day  after 
school,"  Mary  answered  as  she  flipped  over  a  piece  of  ham.  She  didn't 
mention  her  talk  with  Miss  Ford.  Some  way  she  knew  Miss  Ford 
would  rather  she  wouldn't. 

Mrs.  Martin  hadn't  enjoyed  a  supper  for  years  as  she  did  that 
one.  What  did  it  matter  if  the  toast  was  burned  and  the  potatoes  not 
done?    She  knew  that  a  loving  little  daughter  had  prepared  them. 

It  astonished  Mary  when  she  saw  how  much  needed  doing  in  the 
little  house.  In  the  dining  room  a  chair  of  clothes  waited  for  ironing- 
In  the  sitting  room  a  basket  of  stockings  awaited  darning.  "Well,  I 
can't  do  everything  to-night,  she  sighed  when  she  took  up  her  books  to 
begin  studying.  "I'll  get  up  early  in  the  morning  and  iron,  and  I'll 
tackle  the  darning  Saturday,"  she  thought. 

She  did  both,  and  many  other  tasks  she  took  off  the  little  mother, 
who  soon  began  to  look  less  tired  and  careworn.  Mary,  too,  profited 
by  not  putting  off  everything  for  the  future. 


320  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


THE  PUMP-STATION  FIRE. 

Jimmy  donned  his  rubber  coat,  lighted  his  candle,  and  stuck  it 
in  his  cap  peak.  Then  he  sat  down  in  the  hoist-room,  and  waited  for  his 
working  partner,  Charlie  Fields.  It  was  time  to  go  down  and  take 
the  night  shift  on  the  pump-station,  but  Charlie  was  not  in  sight. 

The  hoist-cage  came  up  with  loaded  ore  on  both  decks.  The  cars 
were  rolled  off,  and  replaced  with  empty  ones.  The  cage  hesitated  a 
moment,  waiting  for  the  head  pumpman,  but  as  he  did  not  appear, 
dropped  down  the  long  dark  shaft  into  the  bowels  of  the  mountain. 

Presently  Kirk,  the  big  superintendent,  appeared.  "Where's 
Charlie?"  he  asked  of  the  boy. 

"Don't   know,"   Jimmy  answered. 

Kirk  opened  his  watch.  He's  five  minutes  late,  and  the  pump- 
station  is  unmanned.    Do  you  have  any  idea  where  he  is?" 

"Yes,"  Jimmy  answered,  hesitatingly.  "This  is  pay-day,  and  you 
know  where  many  of  the  men  are." 

"Oh,  yes,  at  the  Gray  Goose,  of  course,  drinking  up  their  hard- 
earned  money,"  the  superintendent  replied  quickly. 

Kirk  started  to  walk  away,  then  turned  on  his  heel,  and  said: 
"Jimmy,  run  down  and  get  Charley.  Bring  him  up  if  he  isn't  too 
drunk.    The  pump-station  must  be  manned  at  once." 

Jimmy  darted  down  the  trail  to  obey.  But  when  he  drew  near 
the  door  he  hesitated.  The  Gray  Goose  was  the  one  place  in  Gold  Bug 
that  the  boy  had  never  entered.  The  boisterous  drinking-place  possessed 
no  attractions  for  him.  His  firm  refusals  to  drink  had  made  him  all 
the  more  admired  by  the  men. 

For  a  moment  the  boy  stood  on  the  trail,  and  considered  whether 
it  was  best  for  him  to  disobey  the  superintendent's  command.  "No,  I'm 
on  duty  now,"  said  the  boy  to  himself.  "Kirk  said  I  must  get  Charlie, 
and  I  will  get  him." 

The  boy  pushed  open  the  swinging  door  and  entered  the  saloon. 
On  this  night  the  place  was  unusually  noisy.  It  swarmed  with  a  crowd 
of  red-shirted,  heavy-booted  men. 

As  he  had  expected,  Jimmy  found  Charlie  drinking  heavily,  and 
treating  the  miners,  who  were  in  constant  line  at  the  bar.  Though  a 
strong  man  physically,  tall  and  straight  as  a  young  pine,  Charlie  was 
possessed  of  one  great  weakness,  and  that  was  his  thirst  for  drink. 

The  boy  walked  up  quietly  and  touched  the  drinking  man  lightly 
on  the  arm.  'Charlie,"  said  he,  "it  is  time  to  go  down.  Kirk  sent  me 
after " 

"Get  out  of  this,  you  little  rat !"  the  drunken  man  yelled  angrily, 
turning  suddenly  on  the  boy.  "Why  didn't  you  ring  the  door-bell  in- 
stead of  sneaking  in  like  a  coyote?" 

At  this  facetious  remark  the  crowd  laughed  boisterously. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  321 

"Kirk  wants  you,  Charlie,"  the  boy  repeated,  paying  no  heed  to 
the  jeers  and  taunts,  and  taking  a  firmer  hold  on  the  man's  arm. 
"What  does  he  want  with  me?    He's  got  no  strings  on — "• 
"You're  late.     Our  shift's  on  now,"  Jimmy  interrupted.     "There's     . 
no  one  on  the  pump-station."  ' 

"What  do  I  care?"  the  drunken  man  roared.  He  turned  again 
to  the  bar. 

Just  then  a  mucker  rushed  into  the  saloon,  all  out  of  breath,  and 
yelled:    "Where's  Charlie  and  Jimmy?" 

"Right  here;  what's  the  trouble?"  the  boy  replied. 
"Fire's  broke  out  in  the  pump-station.    The  men  are  all  out  of  the 
upper  levels,  and  the  whole  mine  will  bum  out  unless  the  blaze  is 
checked.    Kirk  wants  two  men  to  go  down  with  him." 

"The  station's  on  fire,  Charlie!"  the  boy  urged  loudly.  "Come 
quick !"     He  pulled  and  tugged  at  the  tall  man's  arm. 

Tlien  the  daze  of  the  liquor  passed  from  him,  and  the  big  miner 
undwftood,  "What's  that?"  he  cried.  "Fire  in  the  pump-station!  And 
I'm  la^!  It's  my  fault."  He  charged  out  of  the  saloon  and  up  the 
trail'wih  Jimmy  close  at  his  heels. 

Th^  men  of  the  night  shift  were  standing  in  huddled  groups 
abotit^e  hoist,  their  candles  flickering  from  their  cap-peaks.  Smoke 
was  pouring  from  the  shaft  in  great  black  rolls.  Kirk  was  running  to 
and  fro  like  a  mad  lion,  angered  to  frenzy  because  none  of  the  men 
would  go  down  with  him. 

-  "It's  sure  death,"  they  declared,  and  none  of  them  would  budge. 
"You're  a  lot  of  cowards,"  he  yelled,  as  he  seized  the  hose  coil 
and  threw  it  on  the  cage  deck. 

"No,  we're  not,"  Charlie  answered,  reeling  aboard  the  cage.  Jim- 
my stepped  on  beside  him. 

"Don't  let  that  man  go  down,"  the  crowd  protested,  "he's  drunk." 
But  Kirk  did  not  hear.    He  pulled  the  bell-wire,  and  the  cage  cut 
a  hole  through  the  black  smoke  as  it  shot  downward.    At  the  pump- 
station,  the  cage  stopped  suddenly,  bringing  the  three  alongside  the 
burning  station. 

The  fire  was  roaring  like  a  smelter-fumace.  The  heat  stung  like 
vitriol.  All  three  would  have  been  suffocated  instantly  had  they  not 
dropped  quickly  to  their  hands  and  knees,  and  pressed  their  faces 
to  the  floor. 

Kirk  attached  the  hose  to  the  pump  hydrant,  and  the  water  dashed 
through  the  nozzle  into  the  flames.  The  whole  station  was  oil-soaked, 
and  the  fire  ate  the  wood  greedily.  The  draft  started  up  the  shaft, 
sucking  up  fire  and  smoke  in  thick  coils  and  twists. 

In  spite  of  their  heroic  work  the  flames  gained  headway. 
"There's  just  one  way  to  put  it  out,"  said  Charlie,  "and  that's  to 
crawl  through  and  release  the  pump  on  the  other  side." 

Crawl  through !  Who  would  dare  ?  It  was  to  wade  through  fire. 
Even  the  fearless  superintendent  protested.  But  Charlie  dropped  to 
the   floor  and  squirmed  under  the  flames  toward  the  sump.     Jimmy 


322  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

also  fell  flat,  and  dragged  through  after  him.  It  was  the  only  chance 
of  saving  the  mine.  Kirk  remained  on  the  cage  deck,  and  played  the 
stream  -over  them. 

The  floor  was  of  steel,  and  burned  their  hands  like  an  oven.  Over- 
head roared  the  flames.  Burning  cinders  and  coals  dropped  on  them 
as  the  two  crawled  through,  and  they  reached  the  opposite  side  with 
their  hats  and  jumpers  aflame. 

Both  leaped  into  the  sump-tank  to  extinguish  their  burning  cloth- 
ing, then  released  the  water.  Hissing  wildly,  an  avalanche  rushed  down 
the  sides  and  through  the  ceiling  to  the  station. 

For  a  moment  the  flames  sputtered  like  a  monster  frying-pan. 
With  long  shrieks  the  fire  left  the  timbers,  and  burned  out  wood  fell 
in  chunks  from  the  roof.  By  the  time  the  tank  was  half  emptied 
the  fire  was  quenched. 

At  last  Charlie's  whiskey-dazed  brain  was  no  longer  controllable. 
When  he  attempted  to  step  across  the  station  floor  he  reeled  back- 
ward, and  would-  have  fallen  headlong  into  the  sump  had  not  Jimmy 
caught  his  arm.  At  the  same  moment  a  charred  and  burned-out  timber 
dropped  from  the  roof,  and  struck  the  boy  a  heavy  blow  on  the  head, 
carrying  him  down  like  a  shot,  and  pinning  him  to  the  edge  of  the  tank. 

Once  more  Charlie  gained  control  of  himself.  Kirk  found  him 
ducking  Jimmy's  head  in  the  sump-tank.  "He's  just  about  gone,"  said 
Charlie.  "He  caught  a  timber  that  would  have  killed  me.  Say,  but 
he's  a  brave  boy.    I  wish  I  had  his  pluck." 

The  twa  men  tottered  through  the  wreck,  carrying  Jimmy  between 
them.  He  was  limp  and  unconscious.  Blood  flowed  from  his  head 
and  face.  Kirk  jerked  the  bell-drive  and  the  cage  shot  up  into  the 
open  air — the  cool  night  air  that  soaked  their  parched  lungs  like 
nectar. 

They  laid  Jimmy  on  a  cot,  and  called  the  camp  physician.  An  hour 
later  the  boy  regained  consciousness.  Charlie  and  Kirk  were  stooping 
over  the  bunk  when  the  boy  first  opened  his  eyes. 

"Jimmy,"  said  Charlie,  "I  wish  I  had  your  pluck.  Let's  be  part- 
ners. Anyway,  won't  you  forgive  my  bad  talk  down  at  the  Gray 
Goose  ?    I  didn't  mean  it." 

"You  were  drunk,"  said  Jimmy,  with  a  feeling  of  pity. 

"I  know  it  my  boy.  I  know  it,"  the  tall  man  replied,  tears  dripping 
from  his  eyes.  "If  I  will  promise  to  quit  drinking,  will  you  forgive 
me  ?" 

"Of  course  I  will,  Charlie,"  said  Jimmy,  like  a  real  man,  extending 
his  hand,  which  the  miner  grasped  eagerly. 

"It's  agreed,  Jimmy,  my  boy.  No  more  drinking  for  me.  We're 
partners  from  this  time  on,  you  and  I." 


;  ^' 


The  Baby's  Page 


Baby  Lu  leads  Baby  May, 
Lu  holds  a  bunch  of  rose  buds  gay, 
The  white  rose  and  the  pink  and  red, 
Smell  sweet  while  we  all  sleep  in  bed. 

The  sunshine  warms  the  stones  and  sticks, 
In  the  year  months,  June  counts  six, 
All  the  glad  and  sweet  June  day. 
Father  in  Heaven  bless  Lu  and  May, 

~L.  Lula  Greene  Richards 


JUST  FOR  FUN. 

BEYOND  HELP. 

One  of  the  street  philanthropists  who  al- 
ways has  an  eye  and  ear  for  childish  troubles, 
stopped  to  comfort  a  stout  little  boy  who  wai 
filling  the  air  with  lamentations. 

"What  is  the  matter,  you  little  dear?"  she 
asked,  solicitoously. 

"M-my  b-brother's  got  a  vacation  and— 
and  I  haven't!"  roared  the  afflicted  one  at 
last. 

"What  a  shame!"  said  his  comforter. 
"Then  you  don't  go  to  the  same  school,  of 
course?" 

"I — Id-don't  go  to  school  an-anywherc 
yet !"  came  from  the  little  fellow  with  a  fresh 
MTst  of  tears. 

Little  Fred  was  visiting  his  grandmother 

in  the  country,  and  was  watchinglfce  turkey. 

"Look,  grandma,"  he  said,  "the  aid  gobbler 

has  had  his  fan  up  for  half  an  haw,  and  his 

face  is  as  red  as  if  he  wasn't  a  bit  cooler."— Our  Lambs. 

A  small  boy  was  reciting  in  a  gec^aphy  class.  The  teacher 
was  trying  to  teach  him  the  points  of  the  compass.  She  explained: 
"On  your  right  is  the  south,  your  left  the  north,  and  in  front  of  you  the 
east.  Now,  what  is  behind  you?"  the  boy  studied  for  a  moment,  then 
puckered  up  his  face,  and  bawled :  "I  knew  it.  I  told  ma  you'd  see  that 
patch  on  my  pants." — Ladies'  Home  Journal. 

Eight-year-old :  Don't  you  know  the  suti  is  ever  so  much  bigger 
than  the  earth  ? 

Six-year-old:     Then  why  doesn't  it  keep  the  rain  off? 

Teacher — Which  letter  is  the  next  one  to  the  letter  "h"  ? 

Boy — Dunno.  ma'am. 

Teacher — What  have  I  on  both  sides  of  my  nose  ? 

Boy — Freckles,  ma'am. — The  Wasp. 

Five  year  old  Alice  saw  an  apple  lying  under  a  tree  from  which  it 
had  fallen.  Picking  up  the  apple  and  pointing  to  the  stem,  she  asked: 
"Is  that  where  the  apple  was  nailed  on  the  tree?" — Little  Chronicle. 


OFFICERS'  DEPARTMENT 


NOTE  TO  PRIMARY  OFFICERS. 

All  officers  in  attendance  at  the  convention  are  urged  to  be  punct- 
ual. Every  session  will  begin  on  the  hour  announced  and  doors  will 
be  closed  during  the  opening  exercises  and  when  speakers  are  address- 
ing the  audience.  Late  comers  will  be  welcomed  between  exercises. 
The  General  Board  desires  the  help  of  all  Primary  workers  in  establish- 
ing habits  of  punctuality  and  good  order. 

PROGRAM  FOR  THE  ELEVENTH  ANNUAL  CONVENTION 

OF  PRIMARY  WORKERS. 

Held  in  Salt  Lake  City,  Utah,  June  6,  7,  and  8,  1913. 
Subject  to  change. 

June  6th, 
Friday,  11  a.  m.     Bishop's  Building. 

Sacred  Music. 

Prayer. 

Congregational  Singing.  \ 

Address  of  Welcome — First  Counselor  May  Anderson. 

Music. 

History  and  Development  of  Primary  Association  Work — Presi- 
dent Louie  B.  Felt. 

Music. 

Results  of  Primary  Work  as  Observed  by  Apostle  Hyrum  M. 
Smith. 

Singing. 

Prayer. 

Friday,  2  p.  m.     Bishop*s  Building. 
Sacred  Music. 
Prayer. 
Singing. 

Some  Business  Items — Frances  K.  Thomassen. 
The  Hospital  Movement — Second  Counselor  Clara  W.Beebe. 
Music. 

A  Review  of  the  Primary  Teachers'  Course — Isabelle  S.  Ross. 
Congregational  Sinking. 

What  the  Primary  Teachers'  Course  Should  Mean  to  the  Stakes — 
One  of  the  Class. 
Singing. 
Praver. 


326  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

June  yth. 
Saturday,  10  a.  m.     Bishop's  Building.  * 
Sacred  Music. 
Prayer. 
Singing. 

Address,  "The  Child" — Superintendent  A.  C.  Nelson. 
Singing. 
Prayer. 

Saturday,  2  p.  m.     Bishop's  Building. 
Sacred  Music. 
Prayer. 
Singing. 

The  Social  Hour — Edna  Evans. 
Lesson  Development — Edna  Harker  Thomas. 
The  Busy  Hour — Afton  Young. 
Music. 

How  Primary  Work  Relates  Itself  to  the  Home — Apostle  George 
F.  Richards. 
Singing. 
Prayer. 

Saturday,  8  p.  m.     Deseret  Gymnasium. 

A  Costume  Social — under  the  direction  of  Ann  Nebeker  and  Isa- 
belle  S.  Ross. 

Note. — All  Primary  Officers,  Sta.ce  and  Local  are  invited.  Those 
wearing  costumes  on  the  floor  of  the  gymnasium,  all  others  to  occupy 
seats  in  the  gallery. 

June  8th. 
Sunday,  10  a.  m.     Bishop's  Building. 
Testimony  Meeting. 
Special  Music. 

Sunday,  2  p.  m.     Tabernacle. 

Conjoint  session  with  Y.  M.  and  Y.  L.  M.  L  A. 
Addresses  by  President  Joseph  F.  Smith,  President  Martha  H. 
Tingey,  President  Louie  B.  Felt. 
Special  Music. 

Sunday  Evening.     Tabernacle. 
Conjoint  session  with  Y.  M.  and  Y.  L.  M.  L  A. 
Suggestive  Sunday  Program  for  Mutual  or  Primary  Associations. 

The  Life  of  David. 

Preparation  for  Life  Work — Emma  Ramsey  Morris. 
Concert  Recitation  of  First  Psalm — Group  of  Primary  boys  from 
the  Salt  Lake  Stake. 

Reliance  on  Self  and  God — Member  General  Board  Y.  L.  M.  I.  A. 
Special  Music. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  327 

Concert  Recitation  of  Fifteenth  Psalm — Group  of  Primary  girls 
from  the  Pioneer  Stake. 

Loyalty  of  David — Member  General  Board  Y.  M.  M.  I.  A. 

Special  Music. 

Benediction. 

THE  PRIMARY  TEACHERS'  COURSE. 

This  report  is  prepared  at  the  end  of  the  first  week's  work. 

The  big  undertaking  is  now  in  full  swing,  and  while  it  is  too  early 
to  measure  results,  this  can  be  said,  that — 

The  attendance  is  better  than  the  most  optimistic  expected. 

Each  'teacher  reports  the  members  taking  the  course  as  full  of 
enthusiasm,  earnestness  and  abihty.  A  class  whose  application  to  work 
and  response  to  requirements  is  worthy  of  the  highest  praise. 

All  are  located  comfortably  and  conveniently. 

The  General  Board  is  enjoying  the  opportunity  of  personal  ac- 
quaintance with  a  large  number  of  energetic  representatives,  and  antici- 
pates a  wonderful  impetus  to  the  growth  of  the  Primary  Associations. 

One  of  the  pleasant  features  was  the  opportunity  of  wishing  Mrs. 
Louie  B.  Felt,  our  honored  President,  many  happy  wishes  on  the  sixty- 
third  anniversary  of  her  birthday  which  occurred  on  the  fifth  of  May. 
The  General  Offices  were  a  bower  of  beautiful  flowers,  many  of  them 
presented  by  members  of  the  class. 

Mrs.  Clara  W.  Beebe,  who  has  charge  of  the  recreations  of  the 
class  is  winning  .the  admiration  of  all  for  the  many  and  interesting 
events  which  are  being  enjoyed. 

Mrs.  Zina  Y.  Card  is  establishing  herself  in  the  hearts  of  the  mem- 
bers of  the  class,  all  of  whom  are  finding  out  why  she  is  known  as 
"dear  Aunt  Zina." 

The  Stakes  are  represented  in  the  class  as  follows : 

Alberta — ^Vere  Olson. 

Alpine — Ida  Haag. 

Bannock — Olive  Hogan. 

Bear  Lake — Myrtle  Rich,  Mae  Van  Orman,  and  Mary  Sirrine. 

Bear  River — Hortense  H.  Grover. 

Beaver — 

Benson — Lulu  Burnham,  and  Fern  Rawlings. 

Big  Horn — Louise  Welsh,  and  Irene  Willis. 

Bingham — Lucile  Fife. 

Blackfoot — Elizabeth  Duckworth,  and  Besse  Lufkin. 

Box  Elder — Daisy  Madsen. 

Cache — 

Cassia — Emma  A.  Harper,  Ella  Jack,  and  Maud  M.  Clark. 

Carbon — Nellie  Wilson,  Agnes  Branch,  and  Filindia  Sorensen. 

Davis — S.  C.  Knowlton,  Mary  C.  Millard,  Sarah  A.  Howard,  Inez 
Wood  Evans,  Hilda  Sessions,  Edith  Smith,  Nellie  R.  Wood,  Naomi 


1 


328  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

Salter,  Olive  Cleverly,  Lydia  Schultiss,  Mabel  Myers,  Katie  Burton, 
Vera  Layton,  Elizabeth  Ashby,  and  Mary  Wood. 

Deseret — Lucy  Anderson,  Mamie  Gillen  Pierson,  and  Bessie  Law. 

Duchesne — Elsie  Collett. 

Emery — Marie  Christensen. 

Ensign — Stella  Paul  Bradford,  Elizabeth  Caldwell,  Eleanor  B. 
Thomas,  Delia  T.  Pyper,  and  Irma  Felt  Bitner. 

Fremont — Agnes  West. 

Granite — Margaret  S.  Jensen,  Catherine  L.  Woodbury,  Elizabeth 
Kitchie,  Mrs.  L.  Cahoon,  Georgiana  S.  Felt,  Mary  Silver,  Maud  Berry, 
Emma  Williams,  Hannah  Beardshall,  and  Bertha  Beardshall. 

Hyrum — Maggie  B.  Smurthwaite. 

Jordan — Gladys  Boyce,  Celia  Lind,  and  Loraine  Staker. 

Juab — Annie  Winn. 

Kanab — Persis  McAllister,  and  Margaret  Heaton. 

Liberty — 

Malad — 

Maricopa — Helen  Gray. 

Millard — Blanche  Rogers. 

Moapa — Sevilla  H.  Jones. 

Morgan — 

Nebo — Alberta  Nebeker,  and  Mary  E.  Hall. 

North  Sanpete — Lucy  Brady. 

North  Weber — Ethel  Sisman. 

Ogden — Moiselle  Renstrom. 

Oneida — Marie  Miller,  and  Ida  Egbert. 

Panguitch — Francetta  Houston. 

Parowan — 

Pioneer — Leonora  H.  Barton,  Annie  L.  Poulton,  and  Alice  L. 
Kesler. 

Pocatello — Emma  Hyde,  Mabel  Van  Leuvan,  and  Martina  John- 
son. 

Rigby — Persis  Schweitzer,  Malinda  Griffiths,  and  Lizzie  Gilchrist. 

Salt  Lake — Rebecca  J.  Asper,  Cora  Ashton,  and  Hazel  Davis. 

San  Juan — Isabelle  Redd,  Zola  A.  Neilson,  Kisten  Adams,  and 
lone  Shafer. 

San  Luis — Eunice  Dunn. 

Seiner — Hortense  M.  Jones,  Alice  Bird,  and  Ruth  S.  Newby. 

SnoiiHakc — Sariah  S.  Bushman,  and  Leah  Smith. 

South  Sanpete — Lillis  C.  S.  Egan. 

Stan*alley — Amelia  Osmond,  Emma  J.  Herrick,  and  Mary  Call. 

5*/.  George — 

St,  Johns — Josephine  Patterson. 

St.  Joseph — Priscilla  Layton. 

Summit — Edna  Walton. 

Taylor — Retta  Walton. 

Teton — 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  329 

Tooele — Alice  Anderson,  Kathryne  Gillespie,  May  Isgreen,  Len- 
wella  Tate,  Bertha  Neilson,  and  Edith  Clegg. 
Uintah — Ethelwynne  Collett. 
Union — Dorothy  M.  Lindsay. 
Utah — Mary  C.  Nuttal,  and  Ethel  Van  Wagonen. 
Wasatch — Minnie  G.  Hicken,  and  Florence  Jacobs. 
Wayne — Pearl  Balle. 
Weber — Stjsie  Jacobs. 

Woodruff — Viola  Brough,  Helen  Atkinson,  and  Mary  Ann  Pope. 
Yellowstone — Clara  D.  Hansen. 
Young — Josie  Foutz,  Ethel  Tanner,  and  Christina  Smith. 

THE  PRIMARY  ASSOCIATION. 

The  Primary  Association  originated  at  Farmington,  Davis  County, 
Utah,  where  the  first  meeting  was  held  on  the  25th  day  of  August,  1878. 

For  some  time  previous.  Sister  Aurelia  S.  Rogers,  the  pioneer 
in  this  work,  had  reflected  with  much  seriousness  upon  the  need  of  a 
more  strict  guardianship  over  the  boys  and  girls  of  Zion.  She  felt 
the  necessity  for  more  religious  and  moral  training  than  they  were 
then  receiving;  believed  that  children  should  be  taught  to  beautify  the 
home  with  the  workmanship  of  their  own  hands,  and  learn  to  cultivate 
a  love  for  music,  for  flowers,  and  for  the  beautiful  in  all  things. 

The  matter  was  brought  to  the  attention  of  Sister  Eliza  R.  Snow, 
and  a  consultation  was  held  with  President  John  Taylor,  Emmeline  B. 
Wells,  and  others,  resulting  in  a  decision  to  organize  what  is  now 
known  as  "The  Primary  Association."  It  was  resolved  that  the  in- 
struction should  be  of  a  religious  and  moral  character  in  all  that  tends 
toward  the  development  of  upright  men  and  women. 

Accordingly,  on  the  11th  of  August,  1878,  Aurelia  S.  Rogers  was 
set  apart  to  preside  over  a  Primary  Association  in  Farmington.  The 
ward  was  systematically  visited  and  the  name  of  every  child  recorded. 
Two  weeks  later  the  children  were  called  together,  the  object  of  the 
work  was  explained  to  them,  and  the  career  of  the  association  began. 
In  addition  to  the  meeting  where  general  instructions  were  given,  in- 
cluding lessons  on  obedience,  faith  ih  God,  prayer  (individual  and  in 
concert),  punctuality,  and  good  manners,  there  were  program  and 
testimony  meetings.  A  quarterly  gathering  was  held  every  three 
months  to  which  the  parents  were  invited  and  a  special  program  ren- 
dered. Lessons  were  given  on  the  planting  of  beans  and  corn,  to  be 
stored  for  times  of  famine;  in  the  making  of  rag. carpets,  for  use  in 
Church  buildings:  and  much  emphasis  was  laid  on  the  necessity  for 
obedience  to  the  Word  of  Wisdom. 

Similar  associations  were  organized  in  other  places,  and  on  the  19th 
day  of  June,  1880,  Sister  Louie  B.  Felt,  then  President  of  the  Eleventh 
Ward  Association  in  Salt  Lake  City,  was  called  to  preside  over  the 
Primary  Associations  of  the  Church  of  Jesus  Christ  of  Latter-day  Saints 
in  all  the  world. 


330  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


NOTICE  TO  PRESIDENTS  AND  SECRETARIES. 

A  six  month's  supply  of  monthly  report  blanks  has  been  mailed  to 
each  stake  sufficient  to  enable  Stake  and  Local  secretaries  to  keep  a 
duplicate  of  every  report  sent  to  the  General  Board.  Local  secretaries 
can  facilitate  matters  greatly  by  observing  instructions  strictly  in  getting 
out  their  reports  the  first  week  in  each  month  without  fail.  Stake  sec- 
retaries will  confer  a  favor  by  reporting  to  us  promptly,  and  exercis- 
ing constant  supervision  over  this  feature  of  our  work.  Reports  should 
be  made  out  exactly  as  called  for,  not  omitting  at  any  time  the  names 
of  officers  in  the  space  designated  for  them.  Please  observe  this  rule  as 
we  desire  to  become  familiar  with  the  names  of  all  Primary  workers. 

The  record  cards  used  during  the  year  1912  are  discontinued.  Sep- 
arate reports  should  be  made  out  for  January,  February,  March  and 
April.  Care  should  be  taken  that  the  total  of  cash  disbursed  and  cash 
on  hand  equals  the  total  of  cash  received.  The  total  of  questions  1,  4 
and  5  should  equal  question  No.  8. 

PARCELS  POST. 
Please  do  not  send  parcels  post  stamps  we  cannot  use  them. 

SUMMER. 
Why  not  hold  the  Primary  in  the  morning  during  the  hot  weather? 

"SOMEBODY  CARES." 

Always  remember,  when  wouVe  feeling  "blue," 

Somebody  cares ! 
Always  remember — it  isn't  just  you. 

For  somebody  cares. 
Sometimes  it  seems  that  life's  hardly  worth  while, 
But  somebody's  helped  if  you  toil  on  and  smile. 

Somebody,  somewhere,  cares. 

Maybe  it's  Mother,  or  Father,  or  friend. 

But  somebody  cares: 
Maybe  it's  someone  the  future  will  send 
Into  your  life  unawares ; 
Maybe  it's  brothers  or  sisters  who  love; 

But  always  there's  One  who  is  watching  above — 

Somebody,  somewhere,  cares! 

— Selected 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  331 

THE  PURPOSE  OF  THE  STORY  IN  THE  PRIMARY  ASSO- 
CIATION. 

FRANCES  K.  THOMASSEN. 

As  given  in  the  Primary  Teachers'  Course. 

The  main  purpose  of  the  story  in  the  Primary  Association  is  to  teach 
Gospel  truths  and  principles.  There  may  be  some  who  feel  that  we  are 
deviating  from  religious  paths  and  going  too  far  into  secular  instruc- 
tion, subordinating  the  spiritual  to  the  temporal.  Let  us,  therefore, 
define  the  word  religion  and  take  a  broad  view  of  the  subject,  a  thought- 
ful view ;  for  every  Primary  teacher  should  be  first  of  all  a  thinker. 

Religion  is  reverence  toward  God;  charity  toward  man;  sense  of 
obligation  and  duty ;  conscientiousness ;  in  short,  everything  that  teaches 
a  truth,  all  that  brings  the  individual  into  confidential  relations  with  the 
purposes  of  life,  is  religious. 

We  have  all  heard  the  saying :'  "As  the  twig  is  bent  the  tree  is 
inclined" — have  heard  it  so  often  it  has  become  almost  a  platitude.  It 
expresses,  however,  a  great  truth.  Childhood  is  the  formative  period 
,for  the  spiritual,  moral,  intellectual  and  physical  man.  In  this  im- 
pressionable age,  are  laid  the  foundations  of  high  ideals  and  fine  emo- 
tions, tenderness,  love  for  God  and  fellow  man.  We  plant  the  seed 
of  reverence  for  old  age,  honor  to  parents,  and  try  to  stimulate  the 
child's  mind  to  an  appreciation  of  all  that  is  good  and  noble  in  the  world. 

The  architect,  before  he  begins  to  build  his  house,  sees  in  his  im- 
agination the  whole  completed  structure.  He  selects  his  materials,  lays 
the  foundation,  erects  the  walls,  and  places  the  roof.  In  just  this  way 
is  the  course  of  the  Primary  Association  planned.  To  the  mind  is 
first  presented  the  scheme  as  a  whole.  The  Lesson  Hour,  the  Busy 
Hour,  the  Story  Hour,  and  the  Social  Hour,  brought  into  relation  with 
each  other,  form  a  unified  plan  that  gives  untold  opportunities  for  the 
development  of  the  imagination  of  every  teacher  and  child.  In  work- 
ing out  the  course,  many  new  combinations  may  be  made,  unsuspected 
relations  discovered,  and  encouragement  given  for  work  of  a  creative 
nature.  The  imaginative  child, — and  few  children  are  without  imagina- 
tion— needs  to  have  developed  in  him  the  ability  to  select,  to  choose 
between  good  and  evil.  Without  question  the  most  eflfectual  way  to  help 
the  child  acquire  this  discretion,  is  by  means  of  literature.  It  performs 
a  valuable  service  in  increasing  his  store  of  images.  The  child  who 
lives  on  the  farm,  whose  world  is  bounded  by  the  familiar  things  of 
his  daily  life,  needs  the  beautiful  pictures  given  him  in  the  story  of  the 
sea,  in  the  description  of  great  buildings  of  large  cities,  of  beautiful 
works  in  art  and  music.  The  city  child  is  brought  into  closer  touch 
with  nature  by  stories  of  farm  life  and  domestic  animals,  their  habits  and 
surroundings,  and  by  trips  into  the  woods  with  the  story  teller.  By 
this  means  he  is  permitted  to  look  upon  life ;  to  see  events  worked  out 
to  an  issue ;  to  hear  and  see  people  expressing  themselves  in  words  and 


332  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

deeds,  some  as  good  characters,  some  as  bad.  He  sympathizes,  approves 
or  condemns ;  finds  his  heroes  according  to  his  fancy,  forms  his  ideals, 
sets  up  his  models,  and  learns  morals  without  preaching.  The  power 
of  a  book  to  influence  a  child^s  inner  life  is  so  great  that  no  mistake 
should  be  made  in  the  selection  of  it.  The  stories  we  give  to  the 
children  must  be  sound  and  wholesome,  containing  pictures  of  life  and 
conduct  suitable  to  his  need  and  easy  of  comprehension.  Why  has  the 
story  of  Robinson  Crusoe  kept  its  hold  on  each  successive  generation 
of  children  ?  Because  of  its  realism — a  realism  of  homely  detail.  The 
function  of  the  story  is  to  give  to  the  child  high  ideals,  to  satisfy  the 
needs  of  the  spirit  in  its  thirst  for  truth  and  righteousness.  To  one 
who  has  followed  the  course  of  education  during  the  past  few  years,  a 
marked  change  is  apparent  in  the  system  of  imparting  instruction  to 
the  young.  More  attention  is  paid  to  the  aesthetic  nature ;  to  dancing, 
to  music,  to  art;  to  the  various  artistic  industrial  tendencies,  and  all 
activities  that  appeal  to  the  sense  of  the  beautiful.  Aesthetic  influence 
is  taking  the  place  of  excessive  drill  and  recitation. 

The  Primary  teacher  has  undoubtedly  experienced  many  happy, 
satisfying  moments  when,  quite  unexpectedly,  she  seems  to  have  touched 
the  very  heart  of  childhood,  when  the  children  have  listened  breathlessly 
to  the  end  of  the  story,  and  she  feels  that  she  has  given  something  that 
may  prove  of  lasting  benefit.  There  are  few  methods  by  which  we  can 
gain  such  complete  power  over  a  child  as  by  a  good  story,  therefore  we 
ought  to  try  earnestly  to  learn  what  the  quality  of  the  story  is  that 
appeals  so  strongly  to  the  child  nature. 

Story  telling  is  not  a  new  art.  It  is  one  of  the  oldest  in  existence, 
and  it  is  only  in  our  own  day  that  it  has  been  partly  lost  or,  rather,  neg- 
lected. For  many  centuries  story  telling  was  the  chief  method  of  im- 
parting instruction  to  the  young,  and  also  the  most  popular  form  of  en- . 
tertainment.  It  has  served  many  purposes:  to  teach  religious  truth, 
morality,  and  to  give  instruction  in  law  and  custom.  It  has  taken  the 
place  of  books,  and  preserved  to  us  the  best  culture  of  our  race  by 
being  recorded  on  the  most  sensitive  tablet  in  existence — ^the  brain  of 
a  child.  The  living  memory  is  sometimes  better  than  the  written  word, 
for  memory  preserves  not  only  the  words,  but  the  spirit,  the  sentiment, 
the  mood.  How  often,  in  reading  short,  retold  stories,  do  we  come 
upon  these  words :    *'Told  as  I  remember  it  from  childhood." 

In  imparting  religious  instruction  it  has  been  said  quite  confi- 
dently that  the  teaching  of  theology,  of  creed,  or  of  precise  fact  have 
indeed  but  a  small  place  compared  with  the  use  of  the  artistic  method, 
the  method  of  story  telling.  The  foundation  of  the  religious  mood  i? 
the  belief  that  the  world  is  spiritual,  and  our  work  is  to  make  the  child 
feel  such  confidence  in  the  superiority  of  good  over  evil,  that  he  can 
respond  without  fear  to  the  demands  which  life  makes  upon  him,  and 
be  true  to  his  ideals. 

To  one  who  has  studied  the  world's  masterpieces  the  value  of  the 
story  in  the  teaching  of  religion  seems  not  to  be  unduly  emphasised. 
As  far  back  as  we  have  any  history  of  the  art,  we  find  that  man  has  been 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  333 

trying  constantly  to  get  into  closer  relationship  with  the  unseen  world, 
to  keep  on  friendly  terms  with  the  elements  of  nature.  This  attitude 
shows  us  the  purpose  of  the  racial  stories,  myths,  fairy  tales  and  epics. 
All  the  stories  of  the  lower  religious  life  help  the  child  to  lay  a 
stronger  foundation  for  the  higher  religion.  They  help  him  to  believe 
in  the  goodness  of  nature  and  of  mankind,  and  to  sympathize  actively 
in  all  the  situations  of  life  that  come  to  test  his  faith.  He  does  it  in 
play,  in  aesthetic  moods,  but  nevertheless  he  is  laying  the  foundations 
of  a  higher  and  later  faith. 

"Whatever  helps  the  child  to  feel  spirituality  and  good  will  is 
religious ;  whatever  helps  to  bring  him  into  contact  with  the  individual, 
whatever  brings  him  into  confidential  relations  with  purposes  in  the 
world  that  seems  to  include  his  own,  is  religious." 

The  story  holds  an  important  place  in  the  teaching  of  our  faith. 
It  is  safe  to  say  ihat  if  almost  every  other  form  of  inculcating  religion 
were  abandoned  and  the  story  alone  were  used  as  it  could  be  used,  the 
best  method  for  teaching  would  be  retained.  The  Primary  teacher 
must  bring  the  materials  she  wishes  to  use  for  her  lesson  into  a  form 
that  can  be  dearly  understood  by  the  child.  She  must  be  a  good  story- 
teller. This  should  be  one  of  the  most  important  parts  of  her  training. 
She  should  practice  the  art  and  be  able  to  put  into  her  stories  the  faith 
of  the  Latter-day  Saint.  There  is  no  other  division  of  our  work  in 
which  she  will  be  rewarded  by  such  enthusiastic  response  on  the  part 
of  the  child. 

A  problem  that  often  c9nfronts  us  as  teachers,  is  how  to  make  the 
story  meet  the  ne^ds  of  the  individual  child.  It  is  easy  to  plan  for 
children  in  bulk,  but  to  deal  with  individualities  is  a  more  difficult  task. 

The  question  may  be  asked :  "What  shall  be  done  with  the  purely 
nonsense  tale?  Has  it  any  particular  merit  or  place  in  the  Primary 
w«k?"  In  almost  every  association  will  be  found  children  who  would 
bcMefit  by  listening  to  a  series  of  good,  humorous  stories.  There  is  the 
doB  child — it  helps  him  to  an  attitude  of  alertness— of  expectancy.  The 
melancholy  child — ^the  child  whose  home  surroundings  are  depressing, 
who  is  so  situated  that  the  cares  of  life  are  kept  constantly  before  him. 
tfcmor  will  lighten  his  dull  moods  and  help  him  to  see  that  passing 
events  are  but  parts  of  a  larger  movement.  There  is  also  another  type, 
the  too-serious  child,  the  one  who  is  over  reflective. 

Another  problem  is  the  treatment  of  the  child  who  shows  an  in- 
ability to  form  any  definite  moral  ideals.  In  this  child,  sentiment  along 
all  lines  should  be  encouraged.  Hero  stories,  biographies,  historical 
tales,  and  realistic  stories  may  all  prove  useful.  During  the  age  from 
8  to  12,  stories  dealing  wtih  domestic  and  homely  virtues,  centering 
about  the  home  and  school  are  valuable.  Biographical  stories  of  child- 
hood are  also  good. 

Of  course  a  close  study  of  both  story  and  child  would  be  necessary 
if  individual  work  were  to  be  undertaken  seriously.  Emotional  faults 
are  at  the  root  of  almost  all  undesirable  mental  traits  in  children,  and 
we  must  play  upon  the  emotional  life.     There  is  a  wide  field  for  the 


334  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

story  here;  the  timid  child,  the  unsocial  child,  the  jealous  child,  the 
complaining  child,  the  proud,  quarrelsome,  rude,  unfair  child,  the  un- 
forgiving child,  the  child  lacking  in  politeness  and  tolerance,  all  need 
such  influences  as  may  be  brought  to  bear  upon  them  through  the  story. 
All  may  be  led  into  a  more  refined  world  by  this  means.  Children  are 
naturally  hero  worshipers,  and  if  you  do  not  give  them  a  true  hero  to 
worship,  they  will  find  a  poor  imitation  of  one  for  themselves.  There 
is  one  thing  that  every  Primary  teacher  must  be  willing  to  do  before 
she  can  ever  hope  to  become  a  good  story  teller,  no  matter  how  talented 
in  this  line  she  may  be ;  she  must  so  live  in  the  atmosphere  of  the  story 
she  is  to  tell  that  it  becomes  as  a  part  of  her  own  experience.  She 
must  enjoy  the  telling  just  as  much  as  she  hopes  to  have  the  children 
enjoy  the  hearing,  adapting  the  tale  to  the  age  of  the  children  who  form 
her  class. 

The  first  thing  necessary  in  appearing  before  a  class  is  to  get 
control  of  it,  make  it  listen  to  what  you  have  to  say.  Your  story  must 
have  enough  of  the  dramatic  in  it,  at  the  very  beginning,  to  enlist  the 
attention  of  the  children  and  place  them  in  sympathy  with  the  tale  you 
have  to  tell.  Or,  you  may  begin  with  a  short  story  or  two,  that  contain 
the  element  necessary  to  introduce  the  spirit  of  the  theme.  Children 
live  in  a  world  of  imagination,  and  they  glory  in  that  world.  They  find 
themselves  in  those  mighty  heroes  of  old,  as  great  doers  of  big  things. 
In  their  deeds  the  children  familiarize  themselves  with  courage,  with 
devotion,  with  unselfishness,  with  the  joy  of  achieving  in  a  good  cause. 
Through  the  struggles  of  the  characters  of  fiction,  the  child  also  ac- 
quaints himself  with  the  problems  of  pain  and  privation,  of  selfishness 
and  untruth,  of  all  that  is  petty  and  contemptible.  By  this  means  they 
lay  a  foundation  upon  which  to  rear  an  appreciation  of  their  own  ex- 
periences. The  educative  possibilities  of  the  story  are  unlimited  to  the 
teacher  who  has  "eyes  to  see,  the  heart  to  feel,  and  the  will  to  do." 

What  more  beautiful  example  can  we  have  in  the  art  of  story  tell- 
ing than  that  given  us  by  our  Savior:  "Behold  a  man  went  forth  to 
sow ;  and  when  he  sowed,  some  seeds  fell  by  the  wayside,  and  the  fowls 
came  and  devoured  them  up ;  Some  fell  upon  stony  places  where  they 
had  not  much  earth ;  and  forthwith  they  sprang  up,  because  they  had  no 
deepness  of  earth :  and  when  the  sun  was  up  they  were  scorched ;  and 
because  they  had  no  root  they  withered  away.  And  some  fell  among 
thorns,  and  the  thorns  sprung  up  and  choked  them.  But  others  feU 
into  good  ground,  and  brought  forth  fruit,  some  an  hundredfold,  some 
sixtyfold,  some  thirtyfold.     Who  hath  ears  to  hear,  let  him  hear." 

THE  STORY— WHAT  IS  IT? 

HOWARD  R.  DRIGGS. 

As  given  during  the  Primary  Teachers'  Course. 

I  have  always  felt  that  the  Primary  Association  is  to  a  great  ex- 
tent the  hope  of  our  Church,  particularly  along  the  lines  of  high-minded 
recreation.     One  of  the  mos*^  important  duties  that  we  owe  to  child- 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  335 

hood,  is  to  train  the  child  how  to  be  happy  without  being  rude ;  to  give 
him  new  sources  of  high-minded  pleasure  and  recreation;  to  fill  his 
little  mind  with  the  roses  of  life,  so  that  weeds  cannot  grow  there.  I 
do  not  know  of  any  organization  that  is  better  prepared  to  take  up  this 
work  of  training  the  child  in  his  pleasures  and  in  his  social  pastimes 
that  the  Primary  Association.  Vacant  minds  cause  trouble.  We  have 
no  trouble  with  the  child  when  he  is  at  work ;  we  have  no  trouble  with 
him  when  he  is  at  worship ;  we  h^ve  no  serious  trouble  when  he  is  at 
school ;  but  our  great  trouble  comes  during  the  time  when  he  is  left  to 
do  as  he  pleases.  There  is  no  more  serious  duty  resting  on  us  than  the 
training  of  the  child  how  to  fill  these  leisure  hours  with  high-minded 
recreation. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  pleasure  in  the  world,  physical  recreations, 
or  the  recreation  of  the  body.  The  dance,  games,  and  sports  are  ex- 
amples of  this  kind.  The  other  kind  is  mental  recreation.  This  finds 
expression  in  many  different  forms.  Music  is  one  type  of  mental 
pleasure ;  so  also  is  the  theater.  But  of  all  sources  of  mental  recreation 
that  we  have,  there  is  no  source  that  is  so  widespread  in  its  bearings 
and  so  important  as  that  which  comes  from  good  books.  We  read 
books  mainly  for  the  pleasure  that  comes  from  them. 

Most  of  the  books  that  we  read  today  are  story  books.  Most  of  the 
literature  that  comes  to  us  comes  in  the  form  of  stories.  We  have  the 
sermon,  and  we  have  the  song,  but  the  sermon  and  the  song  are  not 
nearly  so  extensive  as  the  story.  If  you  were  to  go  in  our  Public 
Library  today,  you  would  find  that  nine-tenths  of  what  the  child  reads 
is  in  the  form  of  stories.  Newspapers  contain  little  besides  stories — 
stories  of  every  day  life.  The  magazine  is  little  more  than  a  collection 
of  stories.  Even  our  sermons  are  usually  sprinkled  very  plentifully 
with  stories.  Stories  have  been  the  great  means  by  which  mankind 
has  entertained  and  instructed  himself  during  all  the  ages.  Stories  have 
been  the  great  means  by  which  mankind  has  taught  himself  during  all 
ages. 

It  becomes  very  important  that  we  know  something  about  stories. 
What  are  they?  What  place  or  purpose  have  they  in  life?  What  kind 
of  stories  shall  we  give  to  children?  How  shall  we  gather  the  best 
stories?     How  shall ^ we  know  a  good  story  when  we  see  it? 

It  is  very  important  that  we  know  how  to  discriminate  between  good 
and  bad  stories.  I  remember  a  crowd  of  boys  in  a  little  country  town 
south  of  here  who  once  got  hold  of  a  book  called  the  "J^sse  James  and 
the  Younger  Brothers" — a  book  that  dealt  with  train  robbers  and  bank 
robbexs.  That  crowd  of  boys  spent  their  hours  of  leisure  in  poring 
over  the  pages  of  that  book.  One  of  fhe  boys,  who  \yas  the  leader  of 
the  gang,  who  could  not  read  very  well  himself,  used  to  pay  the  boys  to 
read  it  for  him.  These  boys  soon  acquired  a  hate  for  law  and  order 
and  policemen.  This  hate  they  expressed  in  many  ways.  One  day, 
they  were  going  down  the  street  and  saw  a  flock  of  ducks  come  out  of 
the  neighbor's  yard.  "There  go  those  detectives,"  said  one  of  the  boys, 
grabbing  up  some  rocks.     The  boys  acting  on  the  suggestion  began  to 


336  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

throw  rocks  at  the  ducks.  The  result  was  that  two  of  the  ducks  were 
killed.  The  boys  threw  the  ducks  over  the  fence  and  went  on  their 
way  with  the  feeling  that  they  had  done  a  brave  act. 

Here  is  another  picture,  I  visited  one  of  the  Salt  Lake  City  schools 
not  long  since,  and  found  a  class  dramatizing  the  story  of  "King 
Arthur.'*  The  children  acted  their  parts  very  well  indeed.  At  the 
close  of  the  play  the  teacher  told  me  something  of  the  interest  the 
children  had  taken  in  the  matter.  Said  she:  "You  saw  that  boy  who 
took  the  leading  part,  he  has  been  especially  interested  in  that  stor}% 
but  the  other  day  when  I  called  on  the  class  to  dramatize  the  play,  this 
boy  kept  his  seat.  When  I  asked  him  why  he  did  not  come  to  the  front, 
he  said,  'Why,  teacher  I  have  forgotten  my  shield.*  One  of  the  boys 
immediately  offered  him  his  shield.  The  boy  straightened  up  and  said, 
*No,  I  did  not  do  my  duty,  that  would  not  be  like  King  Arthur.'  " 

A  story  may  lead  a  child  to  Heaven  or  it  may  lead  to  the  other  place 
— it  all  depends  upon  the  story.  The  problem  that  we  story-tellers  have 
to  solve,  is  the  problem  of  what  stories  are  worth  while.  We  sh^ll  have 
our  hands  full  to  guide  our  children  into  the  proper  channels. 

There  are  two  main  tests  that  I  put  to  a  story:  one  is,  IVUl  the 
child  read  it?  the  other,  Will  it  do  him  any  good  when  he  does  read  it? 

I  once  asked  of  my  students,  "Why  do  you  read  literature?"  "We 
read  it  for  the  refining  pleasure  we  get  out  of  it,"  replied  one  girl. 
That  was  a  good  answer.  If  we  do  not  get  pleasure,  we  will  not  read  it; 
if  we  do  not  get  refinement  we  should  not  read  it. 

But  before  we  can  discriminate  among  stories,  we  should  know 
clearly  what  the  story  is.  There  are  two  main  things  that  make  a  story. 
One  is  people,  and  the  other  is  trouble.  Let  us  look  at  it.  Did  you 
ever  see  a  story  that  did  not  have  people  in  it?  "Oh  yes,  a  good  many 
of  them  are  stories  about  animals,  but  in  every  good  story  about  an 
animal,  that  animal  is  personified,  or  given  human  qualities.  The  animal 
was  made  to  act  and  talk,  or  seem  to  act  and  talk  like  a  person. 

•There  is  only  one  thing  that  a  human  heart  can  understand,  and 
that  is  another  human  heart.  We  can  understand  Christ  because  He 
has  qualities  like  our  own,  only  perfected. 

The  characters  in  a  story  should  be  interesting.  Characters  should 
have  something  picturesque  about  them.  They  may  be  common,  every- 
day people,  but  they  must  have  something  extraordinary  about  them, 
else  we  are  not  going  to  be  interested  in  them.'  The  second  essential 
of  the  story  is  the  trouble  element.  Some  difficulty  or  problem  mjist  be 
given  for  those  characters  to  rrteet  and  master.  You  might  say  of  a 
man :  He  got  up  in  the  morning.  He  dressed  himself  and  wadied  his 
face.  He  ate  his  breakfast,  and  went  out  to  the  corral ;  milked  his  cow ; 
drove  it  to  the  pasture;  came  home.  Such  a  story  has  a  person  and 
action,  but  is  it  an  interesting  story?  Why  not,  because  you  have  not 
anything  in  the  way  of  trouble ;  you  have  nothing  in  the  way  of  difficulty 
to  be  overcome.     Suppose  that  the  farmer  in  going  to  the  pastucc  was 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  337 

thrown  off  his  horse ;  suppose  the  cow  got  into  a  neighbor's  cornfield ; 
suppose  the  neighbor  put  the  cow  in  the  stray-pen,  and  other  troubles 
resulted.  Then  you  would  get  the  interest  element  of  the  story.  It  is 
the  unusual  occurrence  dropped  into  the  ordinary  current  of  life  that 
makes  a  story.  The  trouble  element  makes  what  we  call  the  plot  of  the 
story. 

What  is  It  that  fills  the  newspapers?  Seventy  thousand  people 
might  walk  down  the  streets  for  thirty  years  in  Salt  Lake  City,  and  yet 
their  names  might  never  appear  in  the  newspaper.  But  let  one  go  on 
the  street  and  get  knocked  down  by  an  automobile,  the  next  thing  you 
know  there  is  a  whole  column  in  the  paper  about  him. 

The  story  of  "Joseph"  is  one  of  the  most  perfect  stories  ever 
written. 

I  once  asked  my  students  what  kind  of  story  they  liked.  They 
gave  me  a  number  of  very  interesting  answers.  One  boy  said  that  he 
liked  the  «tory  in  which  there  was  something  doing.  In  other  words, 
he'^vanted  action.  A  good  many  of  our  stories  do  not  have  action 
enongh.  Some  story-tellers  and  writers  have  the  habit  of  side-tracking. 
If']^u  have  ever  been  on  a  railroad  and  your  train  for  some  reason 
wfe  iorced  to  go  on  the  side  track  and  wait,  you  know  just  exactly 
how  you  felt.  Every  passenger  asks  why  the  train  does  not  move.  The 
chfld  grows  restless  and  impatient  if  that  story  does  not  move. 

The  Primary  teacher  or  the  Sunday  School  teacher  often  makes 
the  mistake  of  side-tracking  into  meaningless  details,  or  moralizing  on 
the  story. 

"What  kind  of  story  do  you  like?"  I  asked  again.  "I  like  one  that 
has  lots  of  fight  between  the  lines,"  said  one  bright  boy  What  did  he 
mean  ?  He  meant  that  he  liked  the  story  that  was  full  of  conversation, 
where  people  talked,  and  where  people  seemed  to  b^  alive.  Not  only 
did  he  want  them  to  be  doing  something,  but  he  wanted  them  to  be 
saying  something.  When  you  take  action  and  conversation  out  of  the 
story  there  is  not  very  much  left.  The  story:  what  is  it?  It  is  a  mov- 
ing picture  of  life  in  words.  Mind  you,  I  said  a  moving  picture  of  life. 
There  was  a  time  when  the  picture  takers  could  only  take  one  thing  at 
a  time.  That  time  is  still  with  us,  but  they  have  invented  a  machine 
that  they  can  take  two  thousand  pictures  a  minute,  and  they  take  them 
so  fast  that  when  they  run  the  thing  along  it  seems  as  if  the  picture  is  a 
moving  picture. 

There  are  a  number  of  different  types  of  stories.  One  of  the  kinds 
of  stories  which  has  been  used  for  hundred  of  years  to  entertain  and 
instruct  people,  is  the  folk  story.  For  thousands  of  years  around  their 
campfires,  around  their  hearth" sides,  around  their  wigwams,  people 
have  entertained  one  another  with  stories,  and  in  the  development  of 
these  stories  a  great  many  very  perfect  and  beautiful  stories  have  been 
worked  out. 

You  know  that  up  at  the  headwaters  of  any  canyon  very  frequently 
there  will  be  a  cliff  project  out  on  the  canyon  side ;  from  this  cliff  the 
rock  keeps  breaking  and  finally  drops  down  until  it  gets  into  the  canyon 


338  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

stream.  The  rock  when  it  broke  was  rough  hewn ;  but  it  falls  into  the 
stream  and  is  tumbled  along  by  the  water  until  it  finally  comes  to  the 
mouth  of  the  canyon.  What  is  the  result?  It  has  been  polished  into  a 
pebble. 

Many  of  the  old  timfe  stories  in  the  beginnings  were  a  good  deal 
like  that  rough  stone.  They  tumbled  into  the  stream  of  time.  It  comes 
to  us  very  frequently,  though  not  always,  perfectly  rounded,  smooth, 
and  beautiful.  The  story  of  Cinderella  is  one  of  this  type.  From  the 
fairy  tale  standpoint,  Cinderella  is  one  of  the  most  perfect  stories  that 
we  have. 

We  have  what  are  called  the  Nursery  Tales — ^the  story  of  the 
"Three  Bears"  where  the  little  girl  goes  out  in  the  wood  and  comes  to 
the  bears'  house.  The  Nursery  Tale  has  this  distinguishing  feature.  It 
is  very  simple,  and  it  is  repetitious.  Another  kind  of  story  is  the  Fairy, 
or  Wonder  Story.  There  are  also  fables  which  nearly  always  deal  with 
animals  personified ;  the  fable  closes  with  a  moral.  A  good  example  is 
"The  Boy  and  the  Wolf."  The  boy  caUs  out,  "Wolf !  Wolf !"  Theii 
the  men  run  to  help  him  and  the  boy  laughs  at  them.  He  repeats  this 
trick  again ;  but  the  third  time  the  wolf  really  does  come  and  the  men 
fail  to  appear  to  help  him.  The  wolf  devours  his  flock,  and  he  learns 
in  sadness  that  the  liar  is  not  to  be  believed  when  he  does  tell  the  truth. 

Another  kind  of  story  is  the  parable.  The  parable  is  somewhat  like 
the  fable.     It  is  a  story  created  to  carry  a  great  spiritual  truth. 

Still  another  kind  of  story  that  we  get  is  the  myth.  The  myth  is 
merely,  in  a  way,  nature  personified.  It  is  an  explanation  of  some  ele- 
ment in  Nature. 

Then  there  is  another  old-time  tale  known  as  the  legend.  The 
legend  is  half  true  and  half  fanciful,  that  is,  it  is  partly  true  and  it  is 
partly  fancy.  It*is  an  old,  old  story  which  has  been  handed  down  from 
generation  to  generation,  generally  dealing  with  some  historical  char- 
acter. There  are  a  great  many  other  stories  besides  these  folk  tales 
that  you  can  bring  into  the  child's  life ;  you  have  your  Pioneer  stories, 
biographical  stories,  which  deal  with  the  lives  of  great  men  and  women, 
stories  of  every-day  life.  And  in  addition  to  all  these  are  the  stories 
created  by  the  masters ;  stories  that  have  been  produced  by  those  who 
have  learned  how  to  tell  a  story  and  tell  it  well.  The  "Birds  Christmas 
Carol"  is  an  example. 

I  have  covered  a  great  many  large  things ;  I  have  tried  to  show 
the  plate  of  the  story  in  the  recreation  of  the  diild ;  I  have  tried  to  point 
out  how  important  it  is  that  we  choose  the  stories  carefully  that  we  give 
to  children ;  I  have  tried  to  tell  you  what  a  story  is,  and  lastly,  I  have 
given  a  general  idea  of  the  various  kinds  of  stories  with  which  we  have 
to  deal. 


LESSON  DEPARTMENT 


SuDJect  for  tbc  Aontb:    ©ut?. 

The  Lesson  Hour. 

LESSON  TWENTY-FIVE. 

SUGGESTIONS  FOR  ALL  THE  TEACHERS. 

Chapter  seven  in  Character,  by  Smiles,  has  two  subjects,  duty  and 
truthfulness,  it  has  been  thought  wise  to  use  duty  for  the  lessons  in  this 
month  and  truthfulness  in  the  next.  The  teachers  are  urged  to  be  careful 
to  keep  the  spirit  of  the  lesson  during  the  entire  month ;  be  sure  to  use 
the  memory  work  in  every  session,  let  the  prayers  and  songs  express  the 
thought.  Remember  that  religion  can  be  taught  in  all  the  activities  used 
in  Primary  associations.  The  aim  of  each  officer  should  be  to  help  the 
bpys  and  girls  to  be  Latter-day  Saints  in  every  particular,  on  week-days 
as  well  as  Sunday,  in  work  and  play,  to  be  honest  with  each  other  and 
with  themselves. 

When  you  are  ready  for  the  lessons  in  this  issue  the  weather  will 
be  getting  very  warm  and  the  suggestion  is  offered  that  the  holding  of 
Primary  during  the  morning  hours  be  considered,  in  the  past  good 
results  have  been  reported  from  the  adoption  of  this  plan. 

FIRST  GRADE. 

Materials  for  iht  Lesson. 

Text :    Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  7.    Bible :    The  Boy  Samuel. 

Other  Materials, 
Memory  Gem. 
Games. 
Songs. 
Pictures. 
Rest  Exercises. 

Aim. 

Willing,  cheerful  doing  of  daily  duties  brings  contentment,  happi- 
ness and  the  approval  of  God. 

Illustration* 

"The  End  of  the  Minute  Hand."    The^ Children's  Friend,  vol. 

5,  page  129. 


340  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  For  the  review  use  the  memory  gem 
and  poem  from  the  last  lesson.  To  develop  the  aim  for  this  lesson  tell 
how  every  boy  and  girl  must  try  to  be  brave  in  doing  right  things.  Use 
the  new  memory  gem  to  help  the  children  to  think  about  the  little  duties 
which  children  should  do.  The  poem  will  help  to  give  importance  to 
little  tasks.  The  story  of  Samuel  should  be  told  simply  so  that  the 
children  will  develop  the  thought  that  we  must  do  our  best  each  day 
and  not  wait  for  some  other  day.  The  story  suggested  for  the  illus- 
tration shows  what  happens,  sometimes,  when  people  forget  to  do 
their  duty. 

Poem.     "Little  Things." 

I  am  so  little,  I  can  do 

Just  tiny  little  things. 
Not  sornething  great,  'tis  very  true, 

Like  men  grown  up,  and  kings ; 
But  I  can  do  some  little  deed. 

Most  anything  I  find 
Right  in  my  way,  if  one  should  need 

Me  to  be  kind. 

I  am  so  little,  I  can  know 

Just  tiny  little  bits 
Of  wisdom,  'cause  to  learn  is  slow 

For  only  little  wits  ; 
But  I  can  learn  some  little  truth, 

And  keep  it  in  my  mind. 
Some  little  verse  that  I  can  sing 

'Bout  being  kind. 

— Selected. 
Memory  Gem, 

"Don't  say,  I  can't,  before  you  try, 

But  try  and  see  what  you  can  do ; 
For  if  your  helped  by  others 

'Tis  others  do  the  work,  not  you." 

THE  BOY  SAMUEL. 

Far  away  in  the  East  there  is  a  land  upon  whose  shores  the  blue 
waters  of  a  sea  wash  up  in  waves.  We  call  this  land  the  Holy  Land. 
Another  name  for  it  is  the  Land  of  Promise  or  the  Promised  Land.  In 
a  part  of  the  Promised  Land  called  Shiloh  the  Israelites  placed  their 
tabernacle,  or  church.  Round  about  it  they  built  rooms  or  houses  for 
the  priests  or  ministers  to  live  in.  At  the  time  of  which  my  story  tells 
there  lived  at  the  tabernacle  the  priest  Eli,  Eli's  two  sons,  and  a  boy 
by  the  name  of  Samuel. 

The  reason  why  Samuel  lited  at  the  tabernacle  with  Eli  instead  of  in 
his  own  home  with  his  father  and  mother  is  a  beautiful  story.  Before 
Samuel  was  bom  his  mother  stood  within  the  tabernacle  gates  and 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  341 

beside  Eli  praying.  There  were  no  little  children  in  Hannah's  home 
and  she  prayed  God  for  the  gift  of  a  son.  When  a  baby  boy  was  sent 
to  her  she  called  him  Samuel  and  said:  '*I  will  give  him  to  the  Lord." 
As  soon  as  Samuel  was  old  enough  Hannah  took  him  to  EH  at  Shiloh 
and  asked  that  he  might  be  taught  how  to  serve  God.  Thus  it  came 
to  pass  that  Samuel  lived  not  at  his  home  with  his  father  and  mother, 
but  in  the  tabernacle  with  Eli,  the  priest. 

We  think  that  Samuel  saw  his  mother  just  once  a  year,  and  that 
at  all  other  times  he  was  busy  waiting  upon  EH,  who  was  growing  old, 
running  on  errands,  learning  the  lessons  Eli  taught  him,  and  serving 
in  the  tabernacle.  Many  of  the  lessons  which  Samuel  had  to  learn 
were  long  and  hard.  They  were  lessons  about  God's  laws  and  were  so 
long  and  hard  that  you  will  learn  about  them  only  when  you  have 
grown  older. 

The  ways  in  which  Samuel  helped  or  served  in  the  tabernacle  were 
not  very  wonderful.  He  did  just  the  things  he  was  able  to  do.  We 
think  that  he  opened  and  closed  the  tabernacle  doors,  cleaned  the  lamps, 
and  kept  them  burning.  There  was  one  lamp  which  was  kept  burning 
all  night  long. 

It  is  no  easy  task  to  learn  lessons  when  they  are  long  and  hard  and 
to  work  when  lessons  are  learned.  Neither  is  it  easy  to  always  be 
ready  to  run  on  errands  quickly  and  wait  upon  someone  who  needs  you. 
It  takes  a  boy  .who  is  strong  and  who  has  power  to  do  what  he  knows  is 
right,  to  do  these  hard  things.  Samuel  did  them  all  and  did  them  so 
well  that  there  came  a  time  when  he  had  his  reward,  as  you  shall  hear. 

Night  with  its  starry  eyes  looked  down  upon  the  earth,  upon  the 
Promised  Land  and  the  homes  where  the  Israelites  lay  sleeping.  As 
Samuel  slept  in  his  own  little  room  near  Eli's,  and  in  his  own  little  bed, 
there  came  to  him  through  the  darkness  and  the  stillness  of  the  night 
the  sound  of  a  voice  calling,  "Samuel."  (Tell  the  story  told  in  I  Sam. 
3:4-9.) 

As  Samuel  lay  waiting  for  the  voice  to  speak  again  he  must  have 
wondered  if  God  had  called  him  and  why,  and  what  God  might  wish 
to  say  to  just  a  boy.  As  Samuel  wondered  he  heard  the  voice  for  which 
he  waited,  and  it  was  God's.  God's  voice  said,  "Samuel,  Samuel,"  and 
Samuel  answered,  "Speak,  for  thy  servant  heareth."  Then  God  talked 
with  Samuel  and  told  him  who  it  was  that  was  to  be  the  leader  and 
the  teacher  of  the  Israelites  in  Eli's  place.  It  was  not  to  be  either  one 
of  Eli's  sons,  but  a  priest  who  would  be  faithful,  who  would  teach  and 
help  and  lead  the  people  in  the  very  best  way  that  he  was  able,  which 
would  be  as  God  would  have  him. 

Whom  do  you  think  God  chose  to  be  His  faithful  priest?  God 
chose  Samuel.  Samuel  was  just  a  boy,  but  he  had  learned  his  lessons, 
had  waited  upon  Eli,  had  served  in  God's  house  faithfully  and  cheer- 
fully. He  loved  God  and  was  glad  to  do  God's  will,  and  because  this 
kind  of  a  boy  grows  to  be  a  man  ready  and  glad  to  do  God's  work  in 
the  world,  God  chose  Samuel  from  among  all  others  to  be  the  leader 
of  His  people  when  he  had  growq  to  be  a  man. — Selected. 


342  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


SECOND  GRADE. 

4 

Materials  for  die  Lesson. 

Text :     Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  7.     Bible :     Daniel  and  the 
Word  of  Wisdom. 

Other  Materials. 
Memory  Gem. 
Games. 
Songs. 
Pictures. 
Rest  Exercises. 

Aim. 

Willing,  cheerful  doing  of  daily  duties  brings  contentment,  happi- 
ness and  the  approval  of  God. 

Illustration. 

"A  Boy's  Courage."  The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  5,  page  24; 
or,  "J^hn  Gray  a  Hero."    The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  7,  page  389. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher,  For  the  review  use  the. memory  gem 
and  poem  from  last  month  and  consider  the  value  of  self-control  in  the 
doing  of  one's  duty.  Tell  simply  the  story  of  Daniel  when  he  refused 
to  eat  and  drink  the  food  that  was  not  good  for  him.  Talk  a  little  about 
the  value  of  the  Word  of  Wisdom  and  our  duty  in  observing  it.  The 
new  memory  gem  and  poem  will  enforce  the  thought  of  the  lesson. 
Use  some  of  the  incidents  given  by  Smiles  in  chapter  seven. 

Memory  Gem, 

"If  youVe  anything  to  do,  dear, 

Why  do  it, 
For,  if  duty  you  put  oif,  I  fear. 

You'll  rue  it." 

Poem, 

Here's  to  the  boy  who  has  courage  to  say 
"No!"  when  he's  tempted,  and  turn  straight  away 
From  temptation  and  tempter,  and  do  what  is  right — 
Such  boys  are  heroes  who'll  win  in  the  fight. 

Here's  to  the  boy  who  is  willing  to  work, 
And,  if  he  could,  not  a  duty  would  shirk ; 
Doing  his  best  at  his  work  or  his  play — 
Such  boys  will  do  to  depend  on,  I  say. 

— Hezekiah  Butterworth. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  343 


THIRD  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text :     Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  7.     Bible :    Queen  Esther. 

Other  Materials. 
Memory  Gem. 
Poem. 
Songs. 
Pictures. 

Aim. 

Willing,  cheerful  doing  of  daily  duties  brings  contentment,  happi- 
ness and  the  approval  of  God. 

Illustration. 

Corporal  Jim."    The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  7,  page  358. 


«i 


Suggestions  for-  the  Teacher,  In  the  review  notice  the  value  of 
self-control  and  the  ability  it  gives  us  to  do  right  things  well.  Lead 
from  this  thought  into  the  new  one  on  duty.  Try  to  get  the  children 
to  tell  you  certain  activities  which  they  should  recognize  as  their  par- 
ticular duty,  such  as,  taking  care  of  their  own  belongings;  keeping 
themselves  clean  and  neat;  and  having  a  definite  share  in  the  regular 
work  of  the  home.  Emphasize  the  thought  that  we  should  never  permit 
others  to  do  for  us  those  things  which  we  can  do  for  ourselves.  The 
memory  gem  and  poem  indicate  the  value  of  this  thought  and  shows 
how  much  happier  all  are  when  all  attend  to  duty.  The  story  of  Esther 
may  be  referred  to  showing  how  she  considered  it  her  duty  to  work 
for  the  safety  and  happiness  of  her  people. 

Memory  Gem, 

The  world  is  full  of  beauty, 

Like  the  world  above, 
And  if  we  did  our  duty 
It  might  be  full  of  love. 

— ^John  Wesley. 

Poem,     What  the  Little  Things  Said. 

"I'll  hie  me  down  to  yonder  bank," 

A  little  rain  drop  said, 
"And  try  to  cheer  that  lonely  flower, 

And  cool  its  mossy  bed; 
Perhaps  the  breeze  may  chide  me. 

Because  I  am  so  small, 
But  surely  I  may  do  my  best. 

For  God  has  work  for  all." 


344  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


<< 


I  may  not  linger,"  said  the  brook, 

But  ripple  on  my  way, 
And  help  the  rills  and  rivers  all 

To  make  the  ocean  spray." 
"And  I  must  haste  to  labor," 

Replied  the  busy  bee, 
The  summer  days  are  long  and  bright, 

And  God  has  work  for  me." 

If  little  things  that  Gkni  has  made 

Are  useful  in  their  kind. 
Oh,  let  us  learn  a  simple  truth, 

And  bear  it  in  our  mind; 
That  every  child  can  praise  Him, 

However  weak  or  small ; 
Let  each  with  joy  remember  this, — 

The  Lord  has  work  for  all. 

— ^Tanny  J.  Crosby. 


FOURTH  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson* 

Text.     Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  7.     Bible :  Jesus  as  a  Boy. 

Other  Materials, 

Questions. 

Memory  Gem. 

Reading. 

Quotations. 
Aim. 

•     Willing,  cheerful  doing  of  daily  duties  brings  contentment,  happi- 
ness and  the  approval  of  God. 

Illustration. 

"Poor  Mary." 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher,  In  asking  the  questions  keep  in  mind 
the  last  lesson  and  help  the  boys  and  girls  to  feel  the  value  of  self-control 
in  the  doing  of  daily  duties.  Every  boy  and  girl  should  feel  the  respon- 
sibility of  certain  duties  and  learn  to  despise  any  desire  to  shirk  or  be 
satisfied  with  work  poorly  done.  Use  some  of  the  incidents  g^ven  by 
Smiles  which  show  the  value  of  the  performance  of  duty.  Tell  about 
the  life  of  Jesus  as  a  boy. 

Questions,    What  can  you  remember  about  David  and  Saul? 
How  and  why  did  David  spare  Saul's  life? 
Why  was  it  David's  duty  to  respect  Saul  ? 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  345 

Saul  was  one  of  Grod's  servants.  Are  there  men  today  who  have 
been  set  apart  to  do  God's  work?  (Take  time  to  help  the  children  to 
understand  their  duty  to  the  Priesthood.) 

What  are  the  daily  duties  which  parents  so  willingly  and  lovingly 
perform  for  their  children? 

What  are  -the  duties  which  boys  and  girls  may  perform  for  their 
parents  ? 

JESUS  AS  A  BOY. 

Wouldn't  you  like  to  know  what  Jesus  did  when  he  was  a  boy  of 
your  age? 

The  few  things  we  read  in  the  Bible  about  Jesus'  boyhood  are  very 
different.  They  are  just  common  things,  such  as  might  happen  to  any 
boy.  We  read  that  he  grew  in  wisdom  and  stature,  and  in  favor  with 
God  and  man. 

I  can  imagine  how  the  boys  of  Nazareth  liked  to  have  Jesus  play 
with  them;  how  the  little  children  ran  up  to  him  whenever  he  came 
toward  them ;  how  obliging  he  must  have  been  about  doing  errands  for 
his  neighbors,  and  how  quick  he  was  to  help  his  mother.  Our  boys  and 
girls  today  can  do  just  the  same  kind  of  things  that  Jesus  did. 

He  was  very  much  like  other  boys  when  he  was  twelve  years  old, 
but  twelVe-year-old  boys  can  have  very  serious  thoughts.  I  think  the 
story  is  not  written  for  us  because  it  is  anything  remarkable,  but  because 
it  was  the  first  time  that  he  came  to  realize  that  he  was  the  Son  of  God 
in  a  different  way  from  other  boys,  and  that  he  had  a  work  to  do  that 
was  different  from  the  work  of  other  men. 

There  are  three  special  things  in  our  lesson  today  that  I  want  the 
boys  and  girls  to  think  about.  The  first  one  is  how  well  his  parents 
could  trust  him.  Could  your  father  and  mother  have  you  out  of  sight 
for  such  a  long  time  and  not  be  worried  at  all  for  fear  you  would  do 
something  you  ought  not  to  do  ? 

The  second  is  how  Jesus  loved  school  and  acted  in  such  a  way  that 
he  got  the  best  there  was  to  be  had  out  of  it.  It  was  a  school  where  the 
doctors  sat.  They  wanted  the  Jewish  boys  to  come  in  and  ask  and 
answer  questions. 

The  last  thing  is  how  Jesus  went  with  Joseph  and  Mary  and  was 
subject  to  them,  living  in  a  little  village  and  working  hard  till  his  youth 
was  gone.  Suppose  you  were  very  hungry  and  there  was  offered  to 
you  a  feast  of  the  most  delicious  food.  But  before  you  had  taken  more 
than  three  morsels  you  were  called  away  to  go  hungry  to  a  place  where 
there  was  nothing  to  eat.  Do  you  think  you  could  go  as  sweetly  and 
obediently  as  Jesus  went  back  to  Nazareth  after  what  was  more  than 
a  feast  to  him  ? 

Suppose  you  were  in  the  middle  of  the  most  interesting  story  you 
ever  read,  and  some  one  should  call  you  away  and  you  knew  you  would 
never  see  the  book  again.  Do  you  think  you  could  go  without  one 
impatient  word,  as  Jesus  did  ? 


346  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Let  the  children  tell  everything  they  can  think  of  that  Jesus  must 
have  done  in  his  boyhood,  especially  the  things  that  can  be  done  today. 

Memory  Gem.     The  path  of  duty  is  the  way  to  glory. — Tennyson. 

Reading,     Duties. 

To  laugh ;  to  run ;  to  swim ;  to  carve ;  to  be  neat ;  to  make  a  fire ; 
to  be  punctual ;  to  do  an  errand ;  to  cut  kindling ;  to  help  their  fathers 
and  mothers ;  to  hang  up  their  hats ;  to  respect  their  teachers ;  to  hold 
their  heads  erect ;  to  sew  on  their  own  buttons ;  to  wipe  their  boots  on 
the  mat ;  to  speak  pleasantly  to  older  folks ;  to  put  every  garment  in  its 
proper  place ;  to  attend  strictly  to  their  own  business ;  to  be  as  kind  and 
helpful  to  one's  own  sisters  and  brothers  as  to  other  people's  brothers 
and  sisters.     These  are  some  of  the  daily  duties  to  be  learned. — Selected. 

Quotations.    Deuteronomy  11:1;  10:12;  Luke  \0 .26-27. 

Illustration.    "Poor  Mary." 

Have  you  ever  thought  of  the  lamentable  condition  in  which  the 
world  would  be  placed  if  there  was  no  one  willing  to  do  ^he  homely, 
commonplace  duties  of  life  ?  Someone  must  sweep  and  dust  and  wash 
dishes  and  cook  and  bake  and  sew  and  mend  in  every  home.  And  have 
such  no  part  nor  place  in  the  honor  and  glory  of  the  world  because  of 
this  dull,  commonplace  routine  of  their  lives? 

There  was  once  a  family  in  which  there  were  four  daughters,  three 
of  whom  had  soaring  ambitions  that  lifted  them  so  far  above  the  com- 
monplace things  of  life  that  they  relegated  all  the  menial  duties  of  their 
home  to  Mary,  a  sister  so  free  from  any  desire  to  be  brilliant  or  stylish 
or  great  that  the  others  mistook  her  modesty  and  simplicity  for  dullness, 
and  usually  spoke  of  her  as  "Poor  Mary!" 

"Poor  Mary"  could  not  paint  like  sister  Nell,  nor  sing  like  sister 
Lou,  nor  play  the  violin  and  half  a  dozen  other  musical  instruments  like 
sister  Maude.  She  did  not  even  regret  that  she  could  do  none  of  these 
things,  and  made  no  complaint  because  her  commonplace  g^fts  rendered 
it  impossible  for  her  to  do  anything  but  take  entire  charge  of  the  house, 
and  keep  it  so  clean  and  sweet  and  beautiful  that  its  very  atmosphere 
was  restful. 

Her  mother  was  an  ivalid,  and  it  was  "poor  Mary"  who  prepared 
all  the  dainty,  appetizing  dishes  the  invalid  longed  for.  Everything  that 
made  her  comfortable  and  happier  was  done  by  "poor  Mary,"  while 
the  other  sisters  rejoiced  that  their  tastes  and  abilities  did  not  run  in  the 
direction  of  the  "commonplace." 

It  was  "poor  Mary"  who  met  her  father  at  the  door  when  he  came 
home  from  the  noise  and  burdens  of  the  day  in  his  office  in  the  city.  It 
was  "poor  Mary"  who  helped  him  get  out  of  his  overcoat  and  who  had 
his  loose,  comfortable  house  coat  and  slippers  all  ready  for  him.  It  was 
"poor  Mary"  who  saw  to  it  that  the  table  was  exquisitely  neat,  and  that 


THE  CHILDREN'S  pRIEND.  ?47 

the  dishes  he  liked  were  served  for  him.  She  it  was  who  had  an  eye  to 
his  buttons  and  to  every  little  thing  that  could  save  him  annoyance. 

To  "poor  Mary"  was  given  the  privilege  of  attending  to  all  the 
homely,  disagreeable  duties  of  the  household,  because  she  did  not  mind 
doing  them,  and  because,  as  her  sisters  said,  she  had  "no  ambition." 

"Poor  Mary's  sisters  were  blind  to  the  fact  that  she  had  an  ambition 
far  above  and  beyond  any  aspiration  they  had  ever  felt — ^the  desire  to  be 
useful  and  helpful,  and  God  has  given  her  the  power  to  be  both.  There 
will  probably  come  a  time*  when  they  will  realize  the  poverty  of  their 
own  lives  and  their  vanity ;  when  they  will  know  that  "poor  Mary's" 
life  has  been  rich  and  fruitful,  even  though  made  up  of  the  most  com- 
monplace things. — Selected. 

FIFTH  GRADE. 

Materials  for  tiie  Lesson. 

Text,    Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  7.     Bible :  Noah  and  the  Ark. 

Other  Materials. 
Questions. 
Memory  Gem. 
Poem. 
Reading. 
Quotations. 

Aim. 

Willing,  cheerful  doing  of  daily  duties  brings  contentment,  happi- 
ness and  the  approval  of  God.  ' 

Illustration. 

Heroes  and  Heroines.     The  Children's  Friend,  Vol.  10,  page  51. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  Review  the  reading,  "Training  For 
What"  and  the  incident  of  the  mess  of  pottage.  Relate  the  thought  in 
these  things  to  the  doing  of  one's  duty.  Discuss  the  meaning  of  "duty." 
Use  the  reading  "Three  Followers"  and  let  the  children  tell  what  it 
means,  how  people  follow  riches,  pleasure,  etc.  Notice  what  Smiles 
says  about  the  use  of  will-power  in  the  performance  of  duties.  Use 
some  of  the  incidents  described  in  the  chapter  on  duty. 

Questions.  What  is  meant  when  we  say  that:  "He  that  ruleth 
himself  is  greater  than  he  that  taketh  a  city?" 

What  can  you  remember  about  Noah  and  the  building  of  the  ark? 

Who  commanded  Noah  to  build  the  ark? 

How  long  was  he  in  building  it? 

How  did  the  people  treat  him  all  that  time? 

What  do  you  think  Noah  would  do  when  they  hurt  his  feelings  and 
made  him  angry? 

What  was  Noah's  duty  in  this  great  task  ? 

How  did  he  do  his  duty? 

What  are  a  few  of  the  duties  which  boys  and  girls  should  do  every 
day? 


348  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Under  this  question  discuss  attendance  to  daily  prayers ;  keeping  of 
the  Word  of  Wisdom ;  keeping  of  body  and  mind  clean ;  remembering 
the  Golden  Rule,  etc. 

Reading,    Three  Followers, 

The  wily  old  Hessan  sat  in  his  door  when  three  young  meh  passed 
eagerly  by. 

"Are  you  following  anyone,  my*sons?"  he  said. 

"I  follow  after  Pleasure,"  said  the  eldest. 

"And  I  after  Riches,"  said  the  second.  "Pleasure  is  only  to  be 
found  with  riches." 

"And  you,  my  little  one?"  he  asked  of  the  third. 

"I  follow  after  Duty,"  he  modestly  said.     And  each  went  his  way. 

The  aged  Hessan  in  his  journey  came  upon  three  men. 

"My  son,",  he  said  to  the  eldest,  "Methinks  thou  wert  the  youth 
who  was  following  after  Pleasure.     Didst  thou  overtake  her?" 

"No,  father.  Pleasure  is  but  a  phantom  that  flies  as  one  ap- 
proaches." 

"Thou  didst  not  follow  the  right  way,  my  son." 

"How  didst  thou  fare?"  he  asked  of  the  second. 

"Pleasure  is  not  with  Riches,"  he  ans\#ered. 

"And  thou  ?"  continued  the  Hessan,  addressing  the  youngest. 

"As  I  walked  with  Duty,"  he  replied,  "Pleasure  walked  ever  by 
my  side." 

"It  is  always  thus,"  replied  the  old  man.  "Pleasure  pursued  is  not 
overtaken.  Only  her  shadow  is  caught  by  him  who  pursues.  She, 
herself,  goes  hand  in  hand  with  Duty,  and  they  who  make  Duty  their 
companion  have  also  the  companionship  of  Pleasure." — Lutheran  Young 
People. 

Memory  Gem,  Duty  is  the  end  and  aim  of  the  highest  life. — 
Smiles. 

Poem.     "Dare  and  Do." 
Dare  to  think,  though  others  frown ;  dare  in  words  your  thoughts 

express ; 
Dare  to  rise  though  oft  cast  down;  dare  the  wronged  and  scorned  to 

bless ; 
Dare  from  custom  to  depart ;  dare  the  priceless  pearl  possess ; 
Dare  to  wear  it  next  your  heart ;  dare,  when  others  curse,  to  bless. 
Dare  forsake  what  you  deem  wrong ;  dare  to  walk  in  wisdom's  way ; 
Dare  to  give  where  gifts  belong ;  dare  God's  precepts  to  obey. 
Do  what  conscience  says  is  right,  do  what  reason  says  is  best ; 
Do  with  all  your  mind  and  might,  do  your  duty  and  be  blest. 

— Cowdery's  Moral  Lessons. 

Quotations.    Ecclesiastes  12:13;  Luke  17:10. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  349 

LESSON  TWENTY-SIX. 

The  Busy  Hour. 

SUMMER  PICNIC. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  As  suggested  in  the  last  number  of 
The  Children's  Friend  the  work  for  this  period  will  be  the  prepara- 
tion of  the  refreshments  for  the  picnic.  This  summer  outing  should 
be  made  as  interesting  as  possible,  the  ideal  being  to  have  every  child 
do  its  share  towards  making  it  a  success. 

In  preparing  for  this  part  of  the  work  it  will  be  best  to  arrange  for 
small  git)ups  of  children  to  meet  in  some  home  where  the  necessary 
conveniences  may  be  found.  If  there  are  not  enough  teachers  try  to 
get  extra  help  for  this  occasion.  The  older  boys  and  girls  may  do 
better  work  if  they  are  separated. 

Two  plans  are  offered,  either  one  of  which  will  help  to  teach  the 
children  how  to  prepare  the  refreshments.  First,  for  the  teacher  to  do 
the  work  in  front  of  the  children,  showing  them  just  how  to  go  to  work 
and  do  it  themselves ;  g^ve  written  directions  and  have  each  one  prepare 
at  their  own  homes  and  bring  results  to  the  picnic.  With  this  plan  it 
will  be  advisable  to  determine  how  much  each  one  is  to  bring. 

The  second  plan  will  be  to  divide  the  amount  of  supplies  necessary ; 
let  each  child  bring  a  share  and  under  the  direction  of  the  teachers  pre- 
pare the  refreshments.  With  this  plan  it  is  suggested  that  all  meet  at 
places  assigned  at  an  hour  early  enough  so  that  when  the  refreshments 
are  prepared  and  nicely  packed,  all  may  gather  at  one  place  and  go 
on  the  picnic.  Use  the  plays,  games,  etc.,  g^ven  for  the  Social  Hour, 
and  do  the  two  programs  in  one  day.  This  will  probably  take  the  best 
part  of  a  day  but  properly  conducted  should  prove  an  extremely  happy 
and  profitable  one.  As  there  are  two  holidays  in  this  month  the  holding 
of  two  sessions  in  one  day  will  not  interfere  much  with  the  regular  work. 

Refreshments. 

First  Grade — Lemonade. 
Second  Grade — Sandwiches. 
Third  Grade — ^Stuffed  Eggs. 
Fourth  Grade — Cookies. 
Fifth  Grade — Candy. 
Officers — Salad  Dressing. 

Recipes. 

Lemonade.  One  cup  sugar,  one-third  cup  lemon  juice,  one  pint 
water. 


350  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Make  a  syrup  by  boiling  sugar  and  water  twelve  minutes,  add  fruit 
juice,  cool  and  dilute  with  cold  water  to  suit  individual  taste. 

One  lemon  should  make  three  glasses  of  lemonade. 

Sandwiches.  Cut  slices  of  bread  very  thin,  spread  every  two  slices 
as  they  match. 

Lettuce  and  nuts  with  a  little  salt,  or  salad  dressing ;  cheese ;  peanut 
butter ;  cheese  and  olives ;  ham  or  any  of  the  fillings  for  sandwiches  may 
be  used.  Wrap  each  sandwich  neatly  in  oiled  or  tissue  paper,  fasten 
with  toothpick  and  pack  in  cardboard  box. 

Stuffed  Eggs.  Cook  the  eggs  for  forty  minutes  just  below  the  boil- 
ing point.  Peel  them,  cut  in  half  crosswise,  remove  the  yolk3,  add  salt 
and  pepper  and  beat  up  well ;  then  add  enough  salad  dressing  to  make 
creamy  and  refill  whites. 

Wrap  each  egg  in  oiled  or  tissue  paper,  fasten  with  toothpick  and 
pack  carefully. 

Salad  Dressing.  One-third  cup  vinegar,  three  tablespoons  sugar, 
one  teaspoon  salt,  one  teaspoon  mustard,  three  eggs. 

Heat  vinegar  in  double-boiler.  Mix  salt,  sugar  and  mustard ;  add 
these  to  the  eggs  slightly  beaten  and  mix  well.  Then  slowly  pour  on 
the  hot  vinegar.  Return  to  double-boiler  and  cook  until  it  thickens. 
This  amount  makes  about  three-fourths  of  a  cup.  When  used  with 
eggs  do  not  add  any  cream.  But  for  salads  and  sandwiches,  one  cup 
of  whipped  cream  may  be  added. 

Cookies.  Three  and  three-fourths  tablespoons  butter,  onerhalf  tea- 
spoon salt,  seven  tablespoons  sugar,  one  teaspoon  baking  powder,  one 
tgg,  one  cup  flour,  two  tablespoons  milk,  one-half  teaspoon  lemon  juice, 
one  cup  finely  chopped  peanuts. 

Cream  butter  and  add  sugar  gradually  creaming  thoroughly,  then 
add  well-beaten  egg.  Sift  flour,  salt  and  baking  powder  together  and 
add  alternately  with  milk  to  first  mixture.  Add  lemon  juice  and  pea- 
nuts. Drop  by  teaspoonful  on  a  buttered  pan  and  cook  for  fifteen  min- 
utes. Wrap  and  pack  in  boxes.  This  recipe  will  make  one  dozen 
cookies. 

Candy.  Three  cups  sugar,  one  cup  water,  four  tablespoons  vin- 
egar. 

Cook  all  together  until  it  forms  a  good  soft  ball.  Pour  out  on 
greased  platters  and  cool.  When  cool  enough  pull  until  white.  Cut 
up  in  pieces,  wrap  and  pack.  This  will  make  enough  candy  for  six 
children. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  351 


LESSON  TWENTY-SEVEN. 

The  Social  Hour. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  We  have  a  right  to  make  all  things 
serve  and  contribute  to  the  development  of  Latter-day  Saints.  Children 
need  play,  and  play  properly  directed  trains  and  educates.  In  the 
Social  Hour  play  should  never  be  merely  play,  while  the  period  should 
be  filled  with  fun  and  laughter  and  happiness  there  should  be  the  guid- 
ance and  direction  of  some  definite  thought  which  will  provide  the  mind 
with  the  right  motive  to  accompany  the  activity.  To  be  sure  of  this  the 
teacher  must  provide  the  things  that  will  stimulate  the  mind  as  well  as 
the  body.  The  opening  exercises  should  be  reverential  and  peaceful, 
every  child  should  have  the  opportunity  to  repeat,  either  alone  or  in 
concert,  some  of  the  memory  work  suggested  for  the  month.  The 
thought  for  this  month  is  duty.  What  is  the  duty  each  member  owes 
to  himself,  companions,  teachers  and  environment  ?  Each  teacher  should 
think  this  question  out  carefully  and  let  the  results  of  her  mental  activity 
influence  all  who  take  part  in  the  Social  Hour. 

It  will  be  interesting  to  play  some  of  the  games  given  for  previous 
months. 

Preliminary  Music, 

Prayer, 

Singing. 

Story. 

Singing  Game.    "Soldier  Boy,"  Old  and  New  Singing  Games. 

Song  Plays.  "Round  and  Round  the  Village,"  Games  for  the  Play- 
ground, or  Old  and  New  Singing  Games. 

"The  Muffin  Man."  Games  for  the  Playground,  page  283,  or  Old 
and  New  Singing  Games. 

Gam£S.  "Beast,  Bird  or  Fish,"  Games  for  the  Playground,  page 
215. 

"Simon  Says,"  Games  for  the  Playground,  page  235. 

"Thimble  Ring,"  Games  for  the  Playground,  page  194. 

"Midnight,"  Games  for  the  Playground,  page  133. 

"Last  Couple  Out,"  Games  for  the  Playground,  page  125. 

Folk  Dance,  "The  Children's  Polka,"  Folk  Dance  Book  by  Cramp- 
ton. 

Song, 

Benediction. 


352  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

LESSON  TWENTY-EIGHT. 

The  Story  Hour. 

Be  as  careful  of  the  books  you  read,  as  of  the  company  you  keep; 
for  your  habits  and  character  will  be  as  much  influenced  by  the  fomier 
as  by  the  latter. — Paxton  Hood. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  There  are  a  number  of  stories  in 
this  issue  that  may  be  easily  adapted  to  the  thought  for  the  rtionth.  The 
suggestion  is  offered  for  the  teacher  to  make  her  own  choice  and  fit 
the  story  to  the  class  and  its  conditions  as  well  as  to  the  principle  of 
duty. 

FIRST  GRADE. 

Stories,  Picture  books  which  illustrate  the  things  little  children 
should  learn  to  do. 

The  Discontented  Pine  Tree,  Household  Stories,  page  85 ;  or, 
Rolly-Poly  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's  Friend. 

SECOND  GRADE. 

Stories,  Franklin  His  Own  Teacher,  Great  Americans  for  Little 
Americans,  page  26 ;  or, 

Dora,  the  Little  Girl  of  th^  Lighthouse,  Boston  Collection  of  Kin- 
dergarten Stories,  page  7 ;  or, 

A  Little  German  Boy,  or  In  Chloe's  Chariot,  in  this  issue  of  The 
Chiudren's  Friend. 

THIRD  GRADE. 

Stories.  Diamonds  and  Toads,  Boston  Collection  of  Kindergarten 
Stories,  page  63 ;  or, 

Saul  and  David,  Child  Stories  from  the  Masters,  page  97 ;  or. 
Whose  Fault  Was  It?  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's  Friend. 

FOURTH  GRADE. 

Stories.    Raggylug,  How  to  Tell  Stories,  page  130;  or, 

The  Little  Hero  of  Haarlem,  How  to  Tell  Stories,  page  239:  or, 

Many  Lives  at  Stake ;  or, 

Seventy  Per  Cent ;  or, 

Marjorie*s  Lesson,  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's  Friend. 


FIFTH  GRADE. 


<ir« 


Stories,    The  Blind  Brother ;  or,  ^ 

Heidi ;  or,  ^ 

Hans  Brinker ;  or. 

One  Day  of  Fun ;  or. 

The  Starting  Place,  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's  Friend. 


PRIN'CESS  WISLAS  JOUKNEY. 


Vol.  12.  JULY,   1913.  No.  7. 


LITTLE  PRINCESS  WISLA. 

Chapter  VII. — The  Little  Girl  on  the  Litter. 

BY  SOPHIE  SWETT. 

In  less  than  an  hour  the  boys  were  down  on  the  river  bank  aga'^ 
with  Rex,  nearly  opposite  the  Indian  island. 

The  dog  was  pawing  the  earth  and  barking  madly.  **He  acts  as 
if  he  were  crazy  to  get  over  to  that  island!  See,  he's  going  to  try  to 
swim  over  and  if  he  does  he  will  -get  drowned !"  cried  Sid.  And  he 
tried  to  hold  Rex  by  the  collar  while  the  dog  made  frantic  plunges  into 
the  river. 

But  Phi  was  intent  upon  watching  a  party  of  Indians  who  ha^^' 
crossed  from  the  farther  end  of  the  island  to  the  main  land  and  were 
setting  off  upon  a  journey  through  the  woods. 

What  seemed  to  be  a  child's  figure  was  to  be  seen  lying  upon  a 
litter  of  boughs  and  skins  that  was  carried  upon  the  shoulders  of  four 
strong  Indians. 

An  old  squaw,  a  younger  one,  and  half  a  dozen  Indian  men  and 
boys  were  of  the  party. 

"Where  are  those  people  going?"  asked  Phi,  curiously,  of  two 
Indian  boys  in  a  canoe  who  drew  near  to  inspect  the  white  boys'  bicycles 
-r-and  to  trade  for  them  if  possible. 

"Off  to  Canada  with  little  sick  girl.  How  much  him  cost?"  said 
Tom  Molasses  who  wore  clothes  like  a  white  boy,  but  had  not  quite 
unlearned  his  Indian  speech  in  the  Indian  island  schoolhouse.  "Him" 
meant  Phi's  bicycle. 

"Little  girl  old  Winne-Lackee*s  granddaughter.  Old  squaw  bring 
her  all  the  way  from  Bar  Harbor  in  canoe.  All  white  doctors  there 
say  little  girl  would  die.  Winne-Lackee  was  squaw  to  a  great  chief. 
Little  granddaughter  a  princess — Princess  Wisla."  It  was  Jo  Matta- 
wan,  with  even  more  of  the  Indian  in  looks  and  speech  than  Tom 
Molasses,  who  told  all  this,  wnth  evident  pride  in  the  little  princess. 

"Old  Winne-Lackee  foolish  like  all  squaw,"  Tom  Molasses  inter- 
rupted. "Said  little  dog  made  Princess  Wisla  sick.  Told  Jo  Mattawan 
to  shoot  him.     Jo  not  that  kind  of  fellow!     I  say,  want  trade  bike?" 


356  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

Jo  Mattawan's  rough  Indian  face  had  softened  queerly. 

"Strange  Httle  dog  look  up  friendly  and  wag  his  tail — Indian  boy 
not  shoot  to  hit !  Now  Winne-Lackee  take  little  dog  off  with  princess 
to  make  her  well,"  he  said,  with  a  jerk  of  his  head  towards  the  pro- 
cession that  was  passing  into  the  woods. 

Looking  keenly  Phi  could  see  the  little  dog — he  saw  the  wag  of  a 
stumpy  little  tail  as  the  litter  passed  among  the  trees, 

"Does  the  dog  belong  to  the  little  Indian  princess?"  he  asked  of 
the  boys. 

"Yes,  come  with  her  all  the  way  from  Bar  Harbor — and  then 
Winne-Lackee  say  shoot!"  said  Jo  Mattawan  scornfully.  "Winne- 
Lackee  squaw  of  great  chief,  but  foolish  like  other  squaw." 

At  that  very  moment  old  Winne-Lackee  was  saying  something 
about  the  dog  to  old  Dr.  Sockabesin  and  his  daughter  Minnehaha  who 
were  starting  off  with  her  into  the  woods. 

"No  need  to  carry  Princess  Wisla  off  at  all,  but  for  fear  that  they 
follow  and  find  the  dog!"  Winne-Lackee  said  it  g^mblingly,  as  she 
set  her  old  feet  to  the  long  march.  But  yet  she  had  been  glad,  after 
the  first  hasty  moment,  that  Jo  Mattawan  had  not  shot  the  dog.  Little 
Princess  Wisla  had  shown  such  love  for  it.  And  there  was  a  soft  spot 
for  a  dog  in  Winne-Lackee's  old  Indian  heart. 

"But  now  there  is  no  trail,  no  sign  for  white  man  to  follow !"  she 
added  joyfully. 

Old  Winne-Lackee  was  reckoning  without  the  wag  of  Stumpy 's 
tail  which  the  boy  across  the  river  who  had  seen  it  could  not  forget ! 

"That  little  Indian  princess*  dog  has  a  wag  to  his  tail  exactly  like 
Stumpy 's,"  Phi  was  saying  to  Sidney. 

But  Sid  had  forgotten  everything  in  his  fear  for  Rex.  The  dog 
had  broken  away  from  him  and  was  swimming  with  desperate  haste 
and  struggle  towards  the  Indian  island. 

"Take  us  into  your  canoe,  quick!  Then  we  can  pick  up  the  dog!'* 
said  Sid  to  the  Indian  boys.  "He  is  not  the  swimming  kind  of  dog, 
you  know!" 

The  Indian  boys  were  very  ready  to  help.  In  fact,  if  it  had  not 
been  for  their  skill  in  keeping  Rex  afloat — since  he  very  soon  showed 
that  he  was  "not  the  swimming  kind  of  dog" — it  is  more  than  likely 
that  he  would  have  drowned. 

Poor  Rex!  He  was  glad  to  get  back  to  shore,  but  he  stood  upon 
his  hind  legs  and  howled  mournfully  with  his  gaze  fixed  upon  the  Indian 
island  which  he  could  not  reach. 

"ril  tell  you  what !  I  want  to  get  over  there  about  as  badly  as 
Rex  does,"  said  Phi  in  a  low  tone  to  Sidney.  "I  can*t  get  that  little 
dog  or  the  litter  out  of  my  mind.  The  wag  of  his  tail  and  Rex's  actions 
and  all  seem  to  me  to  mean  a  good  deal !" 

"I  should  just  like  to  know  what  they  could  mean?"  said  Sidney, 
who  had  been  thinking  pretty  hard,  as  one  could  see  by  the  furrow 
between  his  eyes.     "The  little  Indian  princess'  dog  can't  be  Stumpy! 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  357 

And  as  for  Rex,  he  may  have  got  on  the  track  of  a  rabbit  or  some- 
thing." 

Phi  was  trying  to  make  a  bargain  with  the  Indian  boys  to  take 
him  over  to  the  place  where  they  had  seen  the  procession  of  Indians 
enter  the  forest,  but  the  young  Indians  looked  puzzled  and  surly  and 
shook  their  heads. 

"Winne-Lackee  not  like  to  be  followed,"  they  said!  "Bad  things 
happen  to  white  boys  if  they  follow  Winne-Lackee.  Her  little  grand- 
daughter very  sick.  So  sick  that  Dr.  Sockabesin  and  his  daughter 
Minnehaha  go  along  to  take  care  of  her.  Winne-Lackee  troubled  about 
the  little  granddaughter.     Boys  better  keep  away  from  Winne-Lackee !" 

"You  might  get  yourself  into  trouble  and  I  can't  see  that  you 
would  do  any  good,"  said  Sidney.  And  people  were  in  the  habit  of 
calling  Sidney  a  very  sensible  boy. 

Phi  made  the  Indian  boys  describe  the  little  princess*  dog,  over  and 
over  again. 

It  sounded  as  if  he  looked  exactly  like  Stumpy ;  but  then,  as  Sidney 
said,  why  should  not  a  little  Indian  dog  look  exactly  like  Stumpy? 

Phi  turned  back  slowly  and  reluctantly  with  Sidney,  and  Rex  fol- 
lowed, dripping  and  mournful  with  downcast  head. 

After  they  had  got  almost  out  to  the  highway  Phi  suddenly  dropped 
off  his  bicycle  and  ran  back  to  ask  the  Indian  boys  a  question. 

He  wanted  to  know  whether  the  Indians  were  going  to  walk  all 
the  way  to  Canada,  through  the  woods,  or  whether  they  expected  to 
strike  a  railroad  soon. 

But  the  Indian  boys  knew  nothing  about  that.  "Winne-Lackee 
never  tell  her  business,"  they  said.  But  they  did  know  that  she  was 
coming  back  soon.  Six,  eight  weeks  she  might  stay.  No  more  than 
that.  Now  that  she  was  old,  Winne-Lackee  did  not  like  to  stay  away 
from  home. 

"I  am  going  to  get  my  father  to  telegraph  and  stop  those  Indians 
if  they  are  upon  a  train !"  said  Phi,  excitedly,  as  he  joined  Sidney  again. 
"I  want  to  know  just  how  they  came  by  that  little  dog." 

"Now.  see  here',  old  fellow !"  Sidney  threw  his  arm  affectionately 
around  Phi's  shoulders.  "You  are  a  good  deal  upset  by  Peggy's  disap- 
pearance and  it's  no  wonder.  And  then  having  Stumpy  run  away 
made  things  seem  more  strange.  But  you  mustn't  lose  your  head  be- 
cause a  little  stumpy-tailed  Indian  dog  looks,  half  a  mile  away,  like  your 
dog,  or  because  Rex  seems  to  be  following  a  scent!  He  often  does 
that,  you  know.  I  don't  believe  you  would  have  thought  twice  about 
the  Indian  dog  if  it  hadn't  been  for  Rex !" 

"It  wasn't  half  a  mile  away,"  said  Phi,  "and  I  don't  see  how  any 
other  dog  could  look  exactly  like  Stumpy !" 

"It's  very,  very  easy  to  be  deceived,"  said  Sid,  wagging  his  head 
wisely.  "Out  there  on  the  river  when  we  thought  Rex  was  drowning 
and  I  called  to  you  to  catch  him  by  the  collar,  I  heard  another  voice 
call,  Thi !    Phi'  just  as  I  called.     Of  course  it  was  only  an  echo,  or  my 


358  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

imagination,  but  after  we  had  got  the  dog  safe  I  couldn't  help  thinking 
of  it.     You  see  it  doesn't  do  to  think  you  can't  be  mistaken !" 

Sid*s  common  sense  was  apt  to  be  very  convincing  to  Phi.  He 
suddenly  threw  himself  headlong  upon  the  ground  and  sobbed  as  if  his 
heart  would  break. 

After  all,  what  were  the  little  clews  that  had  made  hope  beat  high 
in  his  heart?  They  were  nothing  when  one  came  to  look  things  in 
the  face! 

So  many  little  girls  wore  coral  beads!  The  old  squaw's  grand- 
daughter might  have  done  so  and  she  might  have  stopped  there,  where 
he  had  found  the  bead,  on  the  way  from  Bar  Harbor. 

And  many  a  little  dog  wagged  his  stumpy  tail  exactly  as  Stumpy 
wagged  his! 

And  as  for  Rex — of  course  he  had  followed  the  scent  of  some 
creature  of  the  woods ! 

It  was  what  the  water-soaked  hair-ribbon  had  told  him  that  Phi 
believed  now.     Peggy  was  drowned  in  the  river. 

He  made  no  response  when  Sidney  proposed  that  they  should  have 
a  picnic  of  the  Pollywhoppet  boys  and  girls  up  at  the  Indian  island. 

"I  think  I  would  like  to  wait  until  old  Winne-Lackee  and  the 
little  princess  come  home,''  said  Sidney.  "I  would  like  to  see  them. 
They  say  the  old  squaw  dresses  sometimes  in  silks  and  diamonds  like  a 
fashionable  lady,  and  sometimes  in  a  blanket  and  moccasins  like  Molly 
Molasses  who  comes  around  with  baskets." 

How  could  he  be  thinking  of  picnics  ?  Phi  thought  a  little  bitterly. 
Well,  after  all,  Peggy  was  not  Sid's  sister! 

At  that  very  time  Peggy,  going  through  the  deep  woods  on  the 
Indians'  shoulders  was  saying  softly  to  herself:    "Phi!   Phi!" 

She  had  called  out,  "Phi !  Phi !"  joyfully,  echoing  a  voice  that  had 
rung  strangely  in  her  ears,  just  as  the  Indians  had  started  to  carry 
her  away. 

Winne-Lackee  had  frowned  upon  her  and  scolded  her,  and  Dr. 
Sockabesin  had  looked  fierce.  Peggy  didn't  understand  why,  but  now 
she  only  whispered  the  name :    "Phi!   Phi!" 

She  felt  happy  about  it  as  she  had  felt  when  she  remembered 
Stumpy's  name. 

"Phi  is  another  name,  Stumpy,  out  of  the  world  you  and  I  used 
to  live  in !"  she  whispered. 

And  then  there  came  a  sudden  rush  of  tears  to  her  eyes. 

"Oh  Stumpy,  dear  Stumpy,  shall  I  ever  remember  all  about  it?" 
she  said  in  Stumpy's  own  faithful  dog-ear. 

(to  be  continued) 


THE  CHILDREN'S  ERJEND,  359 

NO-MOTHERS'  LAND. 

BY  MARGARET  LIVINGSTONE. 

Jack  Stormer  was  a  very  handsome  boy  about  ten  years  old.  But 
if  you  could  have  seen  him,  as  I  saw  him,  one  Friday  afternoon,  you 
would  have  thought  him  a  very  disagreeable  looking  chap.  His  face 
was  darkened  by  an  ugly  scowl ;  his  mouth  turned  down  at  the  corners ; 
and  his  arms  dangled  loosely  at  his  sides.  Every  part  of  his  body 
seemed  to  say,  "How  abused  I  am?" 

And  what  was  the  trouble  ?  Why,  Jack  with  some  other  boys  had 
planned  to  go  swimming  in  the  old  mill  pond.  But  when  mother  was 
told  of  the  plan,  she  said,  "No,  Jack.  You  are  too  young  to  go  so  far 
away  and  besides  the  mill  pond  is  dangerous  for  one  who  doesn't  swim 
weU." 

Jack  pouted  and  teased  and  stormed  but  still  his  mother  never 
wavered.  At  last,  in  a  rage.  Jack  stamped  into  the  other  room  and 
banged  the  door.  "Bah,"  he  said,  "what  a  horrible  world  this  is!  I 
wish  I  didn't  have  any  mother  to  order  me  around.  Then,  I  could  do 
just  as  I  please!" 

He  threw  himself  into  a  chair  and  prepared  to  spend  his  afternoon 
with  his  ugly  thoughts  but  he  wasn't  left  alone  long.  A  heavy  feeling 
came  over  him;  a  darkness  spread  all  around  him,  and  a  voice  mur- 
mured in  his  ear,  "Come  with  me.     You  belong  in  No-Mother's  Land." 

Down,  down,  down  he  felt  himself  going  till  he  thought  he  would 
never  stop.  At  last,  he  landed.  By  his  side  stood  a  strange  lady,  who 
took  him  by  the  hand  and  led  him  forth  into  No-Mother's  Land.  And 
what  a  strange  land  it  was!  Every  house  looked  as  if  it  had  been 
attacked  by  an  invading  army.  The  yards  were  littered  with  rubbish. 
Battered  doors  hung  loosely  on  their  hinges ;  there  were  great  gaping 
holes  in  the  window  panes ;  and  not  a  curtain  was  to  be  seen. 

As  they  walked  along  the  street,  a  great  crowd  of  children  ran 
out  to  meet  the  good  kind  lady  whom  they  seemed  to  love.  Such  dirty, 
miserable  little  children.  Jack  had  never  seen.  Their  clothes  were  torn 
and  ragged ;  bare  toes  showed  through  both  shoes  and  stockings ;  and 
their  towsly  little  heads  looked  as  if  a  comb  and  they  were  strangers. 

They  crept  up  close  to  touch  the  strange  kind  lady  with  their  grimy 
little  hands,  and  Jack  noticed  a  hunger  look  in  their  eyes.  "I  wonder 
if  they  don't  get  enough  to  eat,"  thought  Jack.  But  as  he  looked 
again  at  their  yearning  eyes,  he  knew  their  little  souls  were  hungry  for 
a  mother's  love. 

Then  the  stranger  sent  the  children  away  and  said,  "Come,  Jack,  I 
will  take  you  to  your  new  home."  They  were  soon  inside  a  dingy  little 
house  like  the  other  ones  they  had  passed.  She  put  Jack  in  a  corner 
where  he  could  see  without  being  seen,  and  said,  "Now  stay  there  and 
get  acquainted  with  your  brothers  and  sisters." 

Four  small  children  were  tumbling  round  the  room  making  such 
a  noise  that  Jack  wanted  to  hold  his  ears.  Dirty  dishes  were  strewn 
all  over  the  house.     Two  tumbled  beds  stood  in  the  comers  of  the  room 


360  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

and  as  Jack  noticed  the  soiled  bed  clothes,  he  thought  of  his  own  clean 
white  bed  at  home  which  mother  kept  so  spotless. 

Just  then  a  heavy  step  came  up  the  path  to  the  door.  When  the 
children  heard  the  step,  they  ran  with  happy  shouts,  to  open  the  door 
and  a  boy  about  Jack's  age  came  in.  He  seemed  to  be  worn  out  with 
hard  work  and  as  the  children  crowded  round  him,  he  sank  into  a  chair. 
As  Jack  noticed  his  coarse  overalls  and  shirt,  his  hand  crept  up  to  his 
neck  and  he  felt  his  own  soft  shirt  that  mother  had  sewed  so  neatly 
and  washed  and  ironed  so  carefully  for  him. 

But  the  boy  could  not  sit  still  long  for  he  had  to  g^t  supper  for 
these  little  ones  crying  around  him.  As  Jack  watched  the  boy  washing 
up  the  dishes  and  giving  the  little  ones  their  poor  supper,  he  thought  of 
the  pretty  neat  table  mother  set  and  the  good  supper  she  cooked.  A 
great  lump  seemed  to  gather  in  his  throat.  "How  I  wish  I  were  home," 
he  whispered. 

But  what  was  that  ?  A  knock  at  the  door  and  in  came — could  he 
believe  his  own  eyes — his  own  mother.  He  almost  screamed  for  joy. 
She  had  come  to  take  him  home,  he  thought.  He  tried  to  move  but 
his  feet  seemed  rooted  to  the  floor — he  tried  to  speak  but  he  couldn't 
utter  a  sound.     How  could  he  let  her  know  where  he  was ! 

Then  he  heard  his  mother's  voice  sounding  sad  and  far  away. 
"My  boy  has  left  me.  He  has  gone  to  find  a  place  where  there  are  no 
mothers  to  order  him  around.  Come  with  me  and  let  me  love  you  as 
I  loved  my  little  boy.     Let  me  help  you  to  be  happy  and  good." 

And  Jack  saw  his  mother  take  all  the  little  children  in  her  arms 
and  float  far,  far  up  until  he  could  see  them  no  more.  And  he  was  left 
all  alone  in  the  dark  dingy  house  like  one  turned  to  stone. 

Just  then  some  one  took  him  by  the  shoulders  and  shook  him 
gently.  He  opened  his  eyes.  His  mother's  face  was  bending  over  him 
and  his  mother's  voice  was  saying,  "Come,  Jack,  supper  is  ready." 

Jack  had  been  fast  asleep  in  his  father's  big  arm  chair. 

A  RECIPE  FOR  SANITY. 

Are  you  worsted  in  a  fight? 

Laugh  it  off. 
Are  you  cheated  of  your  right? 

Laugh  it  off. 
Don't  make  tragedy  of  trifles, 
Don't  shoot  butterflies  with  rifles. 
Laugh  it  off. 

Does  your  work  get  into  kinks? 

Laugh  it  off. 
Are  you  near  all  sorts  of  brinks? 

Laugh  it  off. 
If  it's  sanity  you're  after. 
There's  no  recipe  like  laughter, 

Laugh  it  oflF.  — Selected. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  361 

GRETA'S  FOURTH  OF  JULY. 

BY  MARY  WHITING  ADAMS. 

"Nein,  nein — she  has  had  enough  schooling,  Minna.  She  can 
write  a  good  hand,  she  can  keep  the  books  and  make  out  the  bills,  and 
what  more  do  we  need  ?  It  is  folly,  this  talk  of  sending  girls  to  college. 
There  is  the  boy — he  will  go  to  college  when  he  grows  up.  But  Greta 
is  a  girl,  and  home  is  the  place  for  girls,  I  say." 

Heinrich  Amwald  spoke  positively,  and  Minna,  his  wife,  knew 
better,  after  twenty  years  of  married  life,  than  to  oppose  his  emphatic 
utterances.  She  sighed,  and  said  nothing  more.  Heinrich  ws^s  gen- 
uinely fond  of  his  family,  and  spent  his  growing  means  upon  them  gen- 
erously. On  Greta's  last  birthday,  when  the  girl  was  sixteen,  her  father 
had  given  her  a  watch  and  chain  and  a  ring,  whose  price  would  have 
more  than  paid  for  a  year  at  college.  It  was  not  that  he  was  not  proud 
of  his  daughter,  in  his  way ;  but  Greta  was  a  girl,  and  Heinrich  had 
certain  obstinate  ideas  about  girls.  The  boy,  now — ^that  was  different. 
Little  Fritz  was  but  six  years  old,  but  he  was  by  far  the  most  important 
member  of  the  family  in  his  father's  eyes.  Whatever  ambitions  Fritz 
might  develop  would  be  gratified  if  possible.  That  was  what  made  it 
all  the  harder,  the  mother  felt,  to  have  Greta's  only  ambition  definitely 
denied. 

"But  it  cannot  be  helped,  liebchen,"  she  said  to  her  daughter,  who 
was  waiting  impatiently  to  hear  the  result  of  the  interview.  "Thy 
father  loves  thee  much — always  remember  that.  Thou  art  to  have  a 
beautiful  new  silk  dress — " 

"Oh,  mother,  but  I  don't  want  a  new  silk  dress,"  burst  out  Greta, 
passionately.  **I  didn't  want  the  watch,  nor  the  chain !  I  can't  bear  to 
see  the  money  with  which  I  could  go  to  college  spent  for  things  like 
that.  If  father  only  understood  how  much  it  meant  to  me ;  can't  you 
make  him  understand,  mother  ?"  But  Mrs.  Arnwald  sighed  again,  and 
shook  her  head  hopelessly;  for  trying  to  make  Heinrich  understand 
what  he  did  not  want  to  understand  was  but  a  waste  of  effort,  as  years 
had  taught  her. 

She  herself  was  rather  astonished  at  Greta's  bent  of  mind,  for  she 
had  left  school  in  Germany  in  her  own  teens,  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  But 
Greta  was  very  clever,  there  was  no  doubt  of  that.  She  had  always 
been  the  head  of  her  class,  and  had  won  all  the  prizes.  Here  in  Amer- 
ica girls  were  different,  anyway,  though  Heinrich  still  looked  at  things 
in  the  German  way  even  after  eighteen  years  of  living  in  the  United 
States.  If  only  he  were  like  Mr.  Weismann,  in  the  next  block,  who 
had  American  ideas,  and  whose  daughter,  not  half  so  good  a  scholar  as 
Greta,  was  to  be  sent  to  college  in  the  fall!  Mrs.  Arnwald  remem- 
bered how  eagerly  Greta  had  told  this  bit  of  news  to  her  father,  and  how 
unresponsive  he  had  looked,  as  he  said: — 

"Weismann  can  do  what  he  pleases;  I  will  do  what  I  please. 
Such  things  are  not  good;  they  are  foolish." 


362  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Greta  remembered  it,  too,  and  when  her  mother  left  her,  she  sat 
down  in  the  big  chair  by  the  window,  and  cried.  "It's  no  use;  Fll 
never,  never  get  an  education !"  she  sobbed.  "What's  the  use  of  living 
in  America, — yes,  and  keeping  the  Fourth  of  July  the  way  we  do, 
if  we're  not  a  bit  American?  If  father  really  needed  me  to  keep 
his  books,  or  mother  needed  me  at  home,  I  wouldn't  mind — ^but  they 
don't  one  bit.  That's  the  worst  of  it — ^that  there's  no  reason  against 
it  except  that  I'm  a  girl.    Oh,  if  I  were  only  a  boy,  like  Fritz!" 

As  if  to  answer  to  his  name  her  small  brother  came  runnning 
through  the  door  at  this  moment,  in  high  glee.  His  arms  were  full  of 
knobby  packages,  and  his  rosy  cheeks  were  even  brighter  than  usual. 
"I^ook  at  my  firecrackers,  sister,"  he  cried,  in  delight.  "And 
there's  Roman  candles  and  pin  wheels,  too.  Oh,  and  torpedoes!  I'm 
going  to  sleep  with  them  under  my  bed  to-night,  so's  to  be  ready !" 

Greta  wiped  her  eyes  and  smiled  at  him  in  spite  of  her  woes, 
for  she  dearly  loved  her  little  brother.  "Why  what  are  you  crying 
about  ?"  asked  Fritz,  amazed  that  anyone  should  weep  in  a  world  where 
there  is  firecrackers  for  sale.  "What's  the  matter?"  and  he  climbed 
upon  the  arm  of  the  chair  and  hugged  his  sister,  sympathetically  in  his 
arms. 

"I  can't  go  to  college,  Fritz.    That's  all,  and  you  wouldn't  under- 
stand if  I  tried  to  tell  you  any  more." 
"Why  can't  you  go?"  asked  Fritz. 
"Because  father  doesn't  want  me  to,"  said  Greta. 
"I'll  ask  father  if  you  can't  go  to  college,"  said  Fritz,  who  knew 
his  power. 

A  sudden  hope  illumined  Greta's  mind  in  spite  of  herself.  "Oh.  I 
wish  you  would,  Fritz,"  she  said,  hugging  him  in  return.  "Ask  him 
real  hard." 

"I'll  ask  him  on  Fourth  of  July,"  said  her  brother;  "'deed  I  will, 
and  then  he'll  say,  *Yes,'  "  and'  with  a  parting  hug,  he  ran  away  to  put 
his  beloved  fireworks  in  safety,  leaving  behind  a  ray  of  comfort  in 
Greta's  gloom. 

But  those  were  not  all  the  fireworks  in  the  Arnwald  house — oh, 
no !  for  that  evening,  after  Fritz  had  gone  to  bed  in  his  room  on  the 
third  floor,  his  father  brought  home  a  vertiable  Klondike  of  pin  wheels, 
rockets,  flowerpots,  bombs,  Roman  candles,  and  the  rest.  "Ach! 
where  is  there  room,  then,  for  so  many?  "sajd  Mrs.  Arnwald.  "The 
closet  under  the  stairs  is  the  only  place,  and  the  shelves  are  full 
already." 

"Put  them  on  the  floor,  then,"  said  Heinrich,  smiling.  "It  will 
not  hurt  them.  There  will  not  be  one  left  to-morrow  night.  Fritz 
and  I,  we  will  set  them  off.  It  is  a  great  day,  the  Fourth  of  July — eh. 
daughter?"  and  he  beamed  fondly  on  Greta,  having  forgotten  all  about 
such  unimportant  things  as  education  for  girls ;  while  Greta  smiled 
back  loyally  because  she  knew,  after  all,  how  much  her  father  loved  her. 
Nevertheless,  she  cried  herself  to  sleep  that  night.  I  hate  the 
Fourth  of  July !"  was  the  last  thought  in  her  mind  as  she  sank  at  last 


'      THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  363 

into  a  heavy  sleep^  Her  father  and  mother  were  asleep  long  before, 
and  the  only  ones  awake  in  the  silent  house  at  midnight  were  some 
tiny  four-footed,  furry  creatures  that  glided  over  the  floor  of  the  closet 
under  the  stairs,  sniffing  and  nibbling  at  the  packages  on  the  floor. 
Heinrich  Arnwald  had  bought  a  box  of  matches  to  set  off  his  ftre* 
works,  and  mice  like  matches.  But  they  nibbled  at  them  once  too 
often.  A  spurt,  a  flash,  and  the  box  was  on  fire.  The  mice  scurried 
away,  but  the  mischief  was  done.  No  one  was  awake  to  hear  the  sputter 
of  the  fireworks  as  they  scattered  sparks  everywhere  through  the 
closet,  and  so  high  a  summer  gale  was  blowing  that  night  that  the 
sound  would  have  been  lost  even  on  waking  ears.  Not  until  closet  and 
stairway  were  both  aflame,  and  smoke  rolling  in  volumes  through  the 
house,  did  the  family  waken.  The  windows  were  the  only  path  of 
escape,  and  in  their  hurry  and  fright,  flinging  on  what  clothes  they 
could,  the  three  sleepers  on  the  second  floor,  only  half  awake,  climbed 
out  on  the  piazza  roof,  and  got  down  to  the  ground  somehow,  Heinrich 
spraining  his  ankle  badly  in  the  process,  while  the  fire'  engines,  warned 
by  a  passer-by's  alarm,  could  be  heard  coming  rattling  down  the  nearest 
avenue  toward  the  spot. 

"But  where  is  Fritz?"  screamed  Mrs.  Arnwald,  suddenly,  clutch- 
ing her  husband  by  the  shoulder.  Sure  enough,  where  was  the  boy? 
The  window  of  his  room  was  open,  but  no  sound  came  from  inside. 
Half  a  dozen  small  boys  by  this  time  were  on  the  spot,  dancing  about, 
excitedly,  watching  the  fire;  but  none  of  them  was  Fritz — that  was 
certain. 

The  firemen  had  not  yet  come,  but  the  house  was  already  a  mass 
of  flames.  "Fritz!  Fritz!  I  must  get  him!"  cried  Mr.  Arnwald, 
vainly  trying  to  limp  toward  the  door.  But  before  he  could  reach 
it,  like  a"  flash,  Greta  had  passed  him,  passed  the  men,  who  afraid  to 
venture  in  themselves,  were  holding  back  the  frantic  mother,  and 
had  made  her  way  straight,  up  the  burning  stairway.  Another  mom- 
ent and  part  of  the  ceiling  fell,  flaming  where  she  had  passed.  There 
was  a  breathless  pause. 

"Both  of  them!  Both  my  children — ach!"  groaned  the  helpless 
father,  the  tears  streaming  down  his  cheeks.  Then,  just  as  the  engines 
dashed  up,  a  great  shout  rose  as,  up  at  the  third  story  window,  against 
a  background  of  flame  and  smoke  filling  the  room  behind  them,  two 
figures  appeared — Greta,  crying  wildly  for  help,  and  holding  Fritz 
before  her  on  the  sill,  flaxen  curls  singed  close  round  his  head,  his 
eyes  closed,  his  little  body  limp  and  unconscious. 

There  was  no  time  for  a  ladder,  but  two  of  the  fireman  were  on  the 
porch  roof  in  a  flash.  "Throw  him  down !"  they  shouted,  reaching  out 
their  arms,  "and  then  jump!  jump  for  your  life!"  Greta  obeyed. 
Willing  hands  caught  the  child's  body  as  it  fell,  and  then  the  brave 
girl,  seeing  Fritz  safe,  followed,  herself.  Her  clothes  were  beginning 
to  burn  as  she  jumped,  and  almost  before  rescuers  and  rescued  could 
reach  the  ground  the  porch  roof,  too,  fell  a  blazing  ruin.  But  Greta's 
blistered  hands  had  saved  her  brother  and  a  hearty  cheer  came  from 


364  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

every  throat  as  her  mother  clasped  them  both  in  her  arms,  and  cried 
tears  of  thankful  joy  over  them. 

"See!  he  opens  his  eyes,  Heinrich.  See,  Greta!"  cried  Mrs. 
Amwald,  as  Fritz's  lids  slowly  unclosed. 

"He  is  not  hurt !"  cried  Greta,  eagerly.  She  was  wrapped  in  a  fire- 
man's coat,  and  had  forgotten  all  her  scorches  and  bruises  in  seeing  the 
happiness  in  her  father's  face.  "The  mattress  was  catching  on  fire 
under  him,  but  only  a  little.  It  was  the  smoke — there  is  nothing  else  the 
matter  with  him,  father." 

As  if  to  prove  her  words,  Fritz  drew  a  long  breath  and  sat  up, 
looking  at  the  blaze  in  front  and  then  at  his  father,  bending  over  him. 
"It's  Fourth  of  July,  sure  enough,  isn't  it?"  he  said.  "Say,  can't 
Greta  go  to  college  if  she  wants  to,  father?" 

And  Heinrich  Arnwald,  as  he  put  his  arnjs  around  both  his  chil- 
dren, answered,  from  the  depths  of  his  heart,  that  Greta  should  go  to 
a  dozen  colleges,  if  she  chose. 


DON'T  ACT  A  LIE. 

When  I  was  quite  young  I  once  acted  a  lici  and  my  heart  is  sad 
whenever  I  think  of  it. 

One  day  when  my  mother  had  company,  she  took  the  china  sugar- 
bowl  to  the  kitchen  to  fill  it.  I  stood  beside  her  while  she  was  cutting 
up  the  large  pieces.  For  a  moment  she  left  her  work ;  I  knew  I  ought 
not  to  do  it,  but  I  thought  I  would  try  to  cut  a  little ;  but  as  I  brought 
down  the  knife  I  hit  the  handle  of  the  sugar-bowl  and  down  it  fell;  and 
in  a  moment  I  put  the  handle  in  its  place  and  shoved  it  against  the  wall, 
so  that  it  need  not  fall  off.-  I  had  hardly  done  so  when  my  mother 
came  back  and  went  on  with  her  work ;  but  soon  a  heavy  blow  jarred 
the  bowl,  and  down  fell  the  handle.  If  my  mother  had  looked  in  my 
face,  she  would  not  have  said,  "Why !  Can  it  be  that  such  a  jar  should 
break  the  handle?     But  I  was  careless  in  setting  it  against  the  wall." 

I  was  on  the  point  of  saying,  "No,  mother,  it  was  I  that  was  careless; 
I  did  it ;"  but  something  said,  "Don't  tell  it  all  now,  it  can't  be  helped," 
so  I  kept  still  and  acted  a  lie.  I  did  not  say  I  did  not  do  it ;  but  I  meant 
a  lie,  and  it  is  the  thoughts  we  have  in  the  heart  that  God  looks  at. 

Not  many  months  after  that  my  mother  was  taken  sick.  I  was 
sent  away  from  the  house  to  stay  most  of  the  time,  and  she  died  before 
I  could  tell  her.  O,  what  bitter  tears  I  shed  as  I  looked  upon  that  sweet 
face  and  remembered  how  I  had  deceived  her. 

Many  years  have  passed  since  then;  but  my  sin  still  comes  up 
before  me.  I  never  think  of  it  but  my  heart  is  heavy.  I  hope  God 
has  forgiven  me,  though  I  can  never  forgive  myself. — Unidentified. 


THE     COMPANY     SHOUTED,      ICE-CREAM  ! 

GRANDMA'S  COMPANY. 

CONSTANCE  PRINCE, 

Grandma  sank  wearily  into  a  chair.  Her  face  was  full  of  the 
little  tired  lines  that  always  seemed  to  come  on  Tuesdays. 

"Wei!,"  she  sighed,  "the  churning's  done,  ironing  done,  beds  are 
made — now  for  dinner.    I  wonder  what  company  likes  for  dinner." 

The  "company"  slid  off  the  old  haircloth  sofa  as  one  person,  and 
in  like  manner  shouted.  "Ice-cream!" 

Grandma  had  not  thought  of  ice-cream!  Dear  me,  they  might 
have  wanted  whipped-cream  pie,  or  apple-dumpling — but  ice-cream! 

"I  don't  believe  there  is  time  to  freeze  it  for  dinner,"  she  said, 
as  she  glanced  at  the  tall  clock.     "It  takes  a  long  time  to  freeze  it." 

"We  would  wait  until  supper-time,"  Phil  said,  politely. 

"Yes'm,  we'(f  just  as  soon  wait."  echoed  Puss.  She  was  Phil's 
twin  and  always  said  the  things  he  did. 

Of  course  supper  was  farther  away  than  dinner,  but  if  they 
couldn't  have  ice-cream  for  dinner  they  had  rather  have  it  for  supper 
than  not  at  all. 

The  "company"  was  not  greedy — just  ice-cream  hungry;  and 
Grandma  always  ^ve  two  saiicersful. 

They  usually  had  ice-cream  when  they  came  to  Grandma's — but 
then.  Grandpa  was  usually  at  home  to  chop  the  ice  and  turn  the 
crank  of  the  big  freezer. 

After  dinner  the  "company"  raced  away  to  the  big  barn.  It 
was  such  fun  to  come  to  Grandpa's!  The  barn  was  a  splendid  place 
to  play,  and  they  were  going  to  have  ice-cream  for  supper — that  was 
the  best  of  all. 


366  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

When  Grandma  had  finished  washing  the  dishes  she  was  so  tired 
she  could  hardly  sweep  up  the  crumbs.  "I  am  thankful  that  this  is 
the  last  thing  and  I  can  have  a  nap,"  she  thought — then  she  remembered 
the   children's   ice-cream. 

Poor  tired  Grandma,  she  made  the  cream,  chopped  some  ice — 
and  turned  and  turned. 

The  tired  arms  throbbed  with  pain.  Why  didn't  the  cream 
thicken  ? 

She  went  in  and  dragged  the  big  kitchen  rocking-chair  out  into 
the  shed,  got  the  freezer  down  on  the  floor,  and  sat  down  to  turn  the 
crank.  But  poor  Grandma  found  this  quite  impracticable.  Pretty  soon 
her  arm  stopped  of  itself,  and  the  crank  ceased  to  revolve. 

Out  in  the  barn  the  children  were  playing  housekeep. 

"I  hope  Grandma  will  make  strawberry  ice-cream,"  said  Puss. 

"Oh,  Fd  rather  have  lemon,"  said  Phil. 

"We  ought  to  asked  for  two  kinds,"  said  Puss.    "I  wish  we  had." 

"Come  on,"  said  Puss,  "let's  ask  now !" 

The  "company"  was  always  in  good  running  order,  and  with  a 
clatter  it  flew  out  of  the  barn.  Phil  got  there  first.  "Oh,  Grandma, 
can't  " — then  he  stopped,  his  little  brown  hand  tightly  clawed  over  his 
mouth  as  he  scurried  softly  and  silently  back  to  meet  Puss. 

"Sh!"  he  panted.  "Come  quick  but  don't  make  a  sound!  Just 
see  Grandma!" 

Grandma  was  sound  asleep.  Her  head  had  fallen  back  against 
the  old  green  rocker.    The  weary  fingers  lay  unclasped  on  the  crank. 

Puss  gazed  with  a  look  of  horror  growing  on  her  chubby  round 
face. 

Then  they  tip-toed  softly  back  to  the  bam. 

"Oh,  my  goodness!"  Puss  exclaimed.  "She's  dreadfully  tired. 
Aren't  you  ashamed,  Phil  Dayton,  for  asking  her  to  make  ice-cream?" 

"Gracious !  you  asked  her  just  as  much  as  I  did.  Puss  Dayton;  and 
I  guess  we've  most  killed  Grandma,"  Phil  ended  with  a  sob. 

"Oh,  my!  Oh,  my!"  wailed  Puss.  "She's  the  best  Grandma  in 
the  world,  and  we  never  thought  of  her  part  o'  the  ice-cream,  did  we?" 

They  lapsed  into  a  shamed  silence,  broken  by  the  grunting  of 
Grandma's  pig  in  its  pen,  behind  the  barn. 

"We're  just  like  pigs,"  Phil  said. 

It  was  late  when  Grandma  woke,  and  the  first  thing  she  saw  was 
a  ragged  piece  of  wrapping-paper,  not  over-clean,  lying  upon  the  top 
of  the  freezer  covered  thick  with  big  stiff  lead-pencil  marks. 

Grandma  felt  in  her  hair  for  her  glasses  and  read  the  note. 

Gear  Grandma :  Please  don't  wake  up  but  rest  a  long  time.  We 
are  pigs,  but  Puss  is  a  girl  so  she  isn't  as  big  a  pig  as  I  am.  We  have 
gone  home,  because  it  would  choke  us  to  eat  ice-cream  now.  We 
are  very  sorry  we  didn't  think  of  your  part  of  it.     Honest. 

Me  and  Puss." 

'Bless  their  dear  hearts  1"  murmured  Grandma. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  367 


PATSY  AND  THE  POLICEMAN. 

The  warmth  made  a  few  of  the  children  languid,  but  it  put  mis- 
chief into  the  majority  and  made  them  begin  to  hunt  for  new  occupa- 
tions, tops,  marbles  and  kites  each  served  in  turn,  but  none  of  these 
was  quite  active  enough. 

"ril  tell  you  what,"  said  Walter  Sheppard  one  afternoon  when 
school  was  out.  **Let's  have  a  daisy  game  of  'Follow  the  Leader' 
all  over  town  and  everybody  follow.  One  miss  and  a  fellow  must 
give  up." 

"Yes!  Let's!  Let's"  shouted  the  chorus,  and  then  began  to  call 
for  places.  "First,  second,  third,  fourth,"  and  so  on.  Of  course,  Walter 
had  the  right  to  lead  because  he  suggested  it. 

Away  they  went.  Patsy,  Laura  and  Julie  Denton,  in  various  places, 
in  the  line. 

"You  girls  can't  keep  up,"  jeered  Jim.  "What's  the  use  of 
starting." 

But  the  girls  only  gritted  their  teeth  and  leaped  and  jumped  and 
vaulted  and  ran,  though  at  times  they  got  pretty  short  of  breath  and 
scraped  their  shins  awfully  on  some  stone  copings  and  horse  blocks. 

Roland  Martin  gave  out  first  and  sat  down  on  the  curb  and  cried, 
but  the  line  couldn't  wait  for  him  and  on  they  went  with  his  blubber- 
ing cries  unheeded.  Julie  Denton  wouldn't  climb  the  electric  light  pole, 
so  she  sat  down  on  a  park  bench  and  watched  them  chasing  through 
the  shrubbery,  leaping  the  flower  beds  and  skirting  fast  around  the 
stone  railing  of  the  fountain. 

After  this  Walter  gave  the  line  a  few  minutes  breathing  space, 
and  while  he  did  so  a  daring  and  ridiculous  idea  came  to  him. 

"All  up!"  he  shouted  and  then  with  a  wide  leap  he  splashed  into 
the  basin  of  the  fountain.     "All  in !"  he  cried. 

It  was  so  very  sudden  that  everyone  paused.  Then  over  went 
George  Martin,  Jim,  Arthur  Harkness  and  Frank  Kilborn.  Patsy  and 
Laura  gazed  with  their  mouths  open  in  astonishment. 

The  water  was  about  up  to  the  boys'  waists,  and  judging  from  the 
yells  and  gasps  it  was  pretty  cold.  The  girls  did  not  like  the  looks  of  it, 
but  they  hated  to  be  stumped. 

"Fraidy  cat!  Fraidy  cat!"  yelled  all  the  boys  in  chorus.  "Stumped 
at  last.    Ain't  we  glad  we're  not  girls!" 

,Patsy  and  Laura  looked  at  each  other  and  then  at  the  water  and 
then  at  the  boys  and  then  at  each  other  again. 

"Coin'  to?"  said  Patsy. 

"No.  you  bet  I'm  not!"  Laura  returned  with  sudden  decision. 
"Spoil  all  my  clothes  and  have  to  go  home  besides,  just  so's  to  keep 
up  with  some  boys !    Come  on.  Patsy !" 

Amid  jeers  and  hoots  the  girls  walked  to  the  bench  where  Julie 
Denton  had  waited.  The  boys  were  splashing  in  great  glee,  for  nffr 
they  got  used  to  the  water  it  felt  rather  good. 


368  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Just  as  Patsy  was  about  to  take  a  seat,  on  the  bench  beside  Julie 
she  saw  a  large  man  walking  straight  across  the  grass  toward  the 
fountain.  He  wore  a  helmet  and  brass  buttons  and  in  his  large  hand 
he  carried  a  heavy  wooden  stick. 

For  one  short  minute  Patsy  stopped  and  gasped — it  would  be 
an  awful  joke  on  them — then  without  a  word  she  tore  over  the  gravel 
path  toward  the  fountain. 

"The  cop!  The  cop!  The  cop!'*  she  yelled.    "Qui-ick!" 

Such  a  floundering!  In  one  minute  the  fountain  had  no  inhabi- 
tants, the  gravel  round  about  was  very  wet  and  a  flying  spray  came 
back  from  the  various  paths  down  which  dripping  boys  had  fled,  shak- 
ing themselves  like  Newfoundland  dogs  after  a  swim. 

Patsy  dazed  by  the  suddenness  of  the  whole  performance,  stood 
still  for  a  moment.  Then  a  heavy  hand  seized  her  by  the  arm  and  a 
deep  voice  said: 

"What  are  you  doing  here?" 

The  policeman  had  got  her! 

Her  heart  knocked  against  her  ribs.  Visions  of  jails  and  fines 
and  patrol  wagons  and  her  father  and  mother  disgraced  jumped 
through  her  brain. 

"Nothing,"  she  faltered,  not  daring  to  look  up. 

"Been  swimming  in  the  fountain  eh?  That's  a  State's  prison 
offense,  I'd  have  you  know,  young  leddy." 

"I  wasn't — I  wasn't!"  protested  Patsy,  loudly.  "We  didn't  go  in 
— we  were  too  scared,"  she  added,  honestly. 

"How'm  I  goin'  to  believe  a  excuse  like  that?"  went  on  the  deep 
voice.     "You'd  better  come  with  me." 

"No,  no,  no !"  cried  Patsy.  "I  didn't  —I  didn't !  Look  a-here. 
My  dress  is  dry." 

She  put  the  hem  of  her  cotton  frock  into  a  large  hand  that  reached 
itself  down.  To  her  horror  she  realized  that  the  splashing  from  the 
boys'  escape  had  wetted  it. 

"Rather  wettish,  seems  to  me,"  said  the  voice. 

"Oh,  but  just  from  the  boys  being  in,"  she  replied,  hastily. 

"Oh,  then,  the  boys  were  in,  were  they?"  inquired  the  voice. 

Patsy  was  silent.     She  had  not  meant  to  tell  on  the  crowd. 

"And  you  told  'em  to  skin,  did  you?"     Patsy  was  silent. 

"What  boys  were  in?     Didn't  they  know  it  was  against  the  law?" 

"I  don't  know,"  trembled  Patsy.  "We  were  playing  'Follow  the 
Leader." 

"Then  you  belong  to  the  gang,  do  you?  What  are  their  names? 
I'll  get  warrants  for  them." 

"I  won't  tell  you,"  said  Patsy,  with  a  trembling  lip. 

"Oh,  ho!"  cried  the  voice,  fiercely.  "You'd  rather  be  took  up 
yourself,  would  you?" 

Big  tears  came  and  choked  Patsy. 

"It  ain't  fair  to  tell  on  your  own  crowd,"  she  sobbed.  "The  boys 
won't  tell  on  each  other,  and  I  ain't  a-goin'  to,  either,  just  'cause  I'm 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  369 

a  girl,  even  though  they  did  say  mean  things  about  us  bein'  cowards. 
But  I  don't  want  to  go  to  jail !  It'll  most  kill  mamma !  Please,  I  don't 
want  to  go  to  jail." 

All  of  a  sudden  Patsy  felt  a  shake  all  over  the  big  blue  body  stand- 
ing near  her.  The  hand  that  held  her  shook,  too ;  and  looking  up,  she 
saw  that  the  policeman  was  laughing  so  hard  he  could  hardly  keep  his 
grip  on  her  arm. 

He  had  a  great,  big,  kind  face,  and  his  eyes  were  full  of  tears  from 
his  laughter. 

Patsy  stopped  crying. 

"Run  along  now,"  he  said ;  "but  don't  let  me  catch  you  again.  And 
tell  that  crowd  of  rascals  never  to  let  me  see  them  on  my  beat  again." 

"Oh,  they  won't — they  won't !"  exclaimed  Patsy  eagerly.  "I'll  tell 
'em  you  were  awful  nice  and  they  mustn't." 

The  policeman  laughed  some  more. 

"Say,  I've  got  a  kiddy  at  home  about  your  age.  Shall  I  tell  her 
never  to  tell  on  the  crowd  even  if  she's  a  girl?" 

Patsy  looked  up  into  the  policeman's  face  and  smiled  and  nodded. 

From  that  day,  just  as  long  as  he  remained  on  the  beat,  she  and 
the  policeman  always  had  a  smile  and  a  pleasant  word  together. — Se- 
lected. 


A  BARGAIN  IS  A  BARGAIN. 

"A  bargain  is  a  bargain,"  said  John  Saupderson,  who  had  just 
bought  a  knife  of  Willie  Fisher,  and  given  him  a  kite  for  it.  But 
Willie  soon  found  that  the  kite  was  broken,  and  wished  to  trade  back 
again.  "I  shall  not  do  it,"  said  John.  "You  did  not  ask  me  if  the  kite 
was  broken ;  and  do  you  think  I  would  be  so  foolish  as  to  tell  you  of  it  ? 
No!    A  bargain  is  a  bargain." 

Yes,  so  it  was  a  bargain,  but  a  very  unfair  one.  John  deceived 
Willie ;  and  if  he  did  not  tell  a  falsehood,  he  acted  one.  Don't  you  think 
the  knife  he  got  in  that  way  would  be  apt  to  cut  his  fingers  ? 

As  Fred  Sanborn  and  Henry  Gray  were  on  their  way  to  school  one 
day,  Fred  took  out  of  his  basket  a  nice  large  cake  which  his  mother 
had  given  him  for  his  dinner.  Henry  offered  him  a  large  red  apple  for 
it.  "Is  it  a  good  apple?"  asked  Fred.  "Do  you  think  I  would  take  a 
poor  apple  to  school  for  my  dinner?"  asked  Henry.  "I  tell  you  it  is  a 
real  juicy  apple,  for  I  know  the  tree  on  which  it  grew."  So  Fred  let 
him  have  the  cake  for  the  apple. 

At  noon,  when  Fred  tasted  his  apple,  he  found  it  was  so  sour  that 
he  could  not  eat  it,  and  he  wished  to  trade  back  again.  "No,"  said 
Henry,  "I  don't  trade  back.  A  bargain  is  a  bargain,  Henry  Gray."  But 
what  kind  of  a  bargain  was  it?  You  cheated  Fred,  and  you  know  it, 
and  you  meant  to  do  it.  You  are  not  an  honest  boy,  and  it  was  not  a 
fair  trade. 


370  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Mr.  Bell  went  out  to  btiy  a  horse.  He  found  one  that  he  liked, 
and  that  the  owner  wished  to  sell ;  but  he  determined  to  purchase  him, 
if  possible,  for  less  than  he  was  worth.  The  owner  asked  a  hundred 
dollars  for  him,  and  it  was  not  too  much. 

"What  is  the  age  of  your  horse?"  "Eight  years  old,  I  believe/* 
said  the  man.  "That  is  what  the  person  from  whom  I  bought  him  told 
me."  "Eight  years  old?  Why,  he  is  certainly  more  than  twelve.  See 
how  his  teeth  are  worn  down." 

The  owner  could  not  be  positive  as  to  his  age.  "Ahd  besides," 
said  Mr.  Bell,  "he  seems  a  little  stiff  in  the  joints.  He  carries  his  head 
badly,  and  is  too  hard  upon  the  bit,  and  I  don't  like  the  color.  If  he 
were  a  bright  bay,  I  would  give  much  more  for  him.  I  am  willing  to 
pay  all  he  is  worth,  but  I  can  not  think  of  offering  you  more  than 
seventy-five  dollars." 

Thus  he  cheapens  the  animal,  as  much  below  his  real  worth  as  he 
can.  The  owner  is  in  want  of  money,  and  must  take  what  he  can  get. 
So  Mr.  Bell  buys  the  horse  for  seventy-five  dollars;  but  when  he  has 
taken  the  horse  home,  he  boasts  what  a  good  bargain  he  has  made. 

A  man  very  much  like  Mr.  Bell  is  described  in  the  Book  of 
Proverbs:  "It  is  naught,  it  is  naught,  saith  the  buyer;  but  when  he  is 
gone  his  way,  then  he  boasteth." 

"I  would  not  sell  that  horse  for  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,"  says 
Mr.  Bell.     "He  is  of  the  right  age,  and  just  what  I  want." 

"But  how  cheap  you  bought  him,  Mr.  Bell.  Did  not  you  cheat 
the  man  ?" 

"Cheat  him !  Oh  no !  A  bargain  is  a  bargain.  Every  one  must 
look  out  for  himself,  you  know." 

But,  Mr.  Bell,  were  you  honest  when  you  told  the  owner  that  the 
horse  was  certainly  twelve  years  old  ?  Did  you  not  like  the  color  of  the 
horse?  Were  you  w^illing  to  pay  all  he  was  worth  to  you?  Ah,  Mr. 
Bell,  I  am  afraid  that  will  be  a  hard-backed  horse  for  you  to  ride. 

And  then,  again,  he  is  so  stiff  in  the  joints  that  he  may  stumble, 
and  throw  you.  Or,  what  is  still  worse,  he  is  so  hard  upon  the  bit  that 
he  may  run  away  with  you.  Are  you  not  sorry  that  you  bought  so 
bad  a  horse,  Mr.  Bell? 


John  Stuart  Blackie's  "F^our  Steps  to  Happiness"  are  worth  re- 
membering. They  suggest  where  some  of  our  days  lose  the  chances 
of  joy  that  might  be  theirs: 

"1.     Accept  your  limitations. 

"2.     Seize  your  opportunity. 

"3.     Enjoy  the  good  of  the  hour. 

"4.     Improve  the  bad,  and  if  you  can't,  let  it  drop." 


THp,  CHILDREN,  S  FRIEND.  371 

THE  SURETY-(AN  ARAB  LEGEND). 

TRANSLATED  BY  J.  E.  HANAUER. 

It  came  about  during  the  reign  of  the  great  Khali f eh  'Omar  ibn  al 
Khattab,  who  ruled  the  Moslem  world  between  the  year  A.  D.  634-41, 
that  a  Bedawi  camel  herdsman  was,  together  with  his  animals,  passing 
one  of  the  orchards  on  the  outskirts  of  an  Eastern  city.  The  owner  of 
the  orchard  happened  to  be  mending  the  dry  stone  fence  inclosing  his 
property  when  he  noticed  one  of  the  camels,  a  fine  and  valuable  male, 
stretching  out  its  neck  and  breaking  off  one  of  the  branches  of  a  tree 
laden  with  ripe  fruit.  Picking  up  a  stone,  he  threw  it  with  fatal  aim  at 
the  great  beast  which,  struck  on  its  head,  fell  dead  on  the  spot.  Its 
owner,  giving  way  to  a  sudden  fit  of  fury,  picked  up  the  same  stone  and 
threw  it  with  all  his  force,  but  with  only  too  true  an  aim,  at  the  man 
who  had  slain  his  camel,  and  killed  him  on  the  spot.  Then,  suddenly 
realizing,  horror-struck,  what  he  had  done,  he  became  panic-stricken, 
and  leaping  on  to  the  swiftest  of  his  beasts,  he  rode  off  toward  the 
desert,  leaving  the  others  to  take  care  of  themselves.  His  hope  of 
escape  was  vain,  however,  for  the  sons  of  the  slain  man  at  once  followed 
him  and  obliged  him  to  report  with  them  to  the  camp  of  *Omar,  which 
happened  to  be  close  by.  On  hearing  the  story  the  Khalifeh  condemned 
the  man-slayer  to  death,  seeing  that  the  children  of  his  victim  absolutely 
refused  to  accept  a  "dig-yeh,"  or  monetary  compensation,  for  the  death 
of  their  parent.  Now,  in  those  times  it  was  customary  for  the  execu- 
tion of  a  convicted  criminal  to  take  place  almost  immediately  after  he 
had  been  condemned.  The  mode  of  procedure  is  said  to  have  been  as 
follows:  A  large  skin  or  hide  called  "nut'a"  was  spread  in  the  mon- 
arch's presence,  and  the  person  to  be  beheaded  was  made  to  kneel  upon 
it  with  his  hands  bound  behind  his  back.  The  "jelad,*'  or  executioner, 
who  stood  behind  him  with  a  drawn  sword,  then  cried  aloud,  *'0,  Com- 
mander of  the  Believers,  is  it  indeed  your  will  that  so  and  so  should  be 
caused  to  depart  from  this  world?"  If  the  Khalifeh  answered  '*Yes,'* 
the  executioner  asked  the  same  question  aloud  the  second  time  and  if  it 
was  answered  in  the  affirmative,  he  asked  it  once  again  for  the  third 
and  last  time,  and  immediately  afterward,  in  case  the  potentate  did  not 
revoke  the  fatal  order,  he  struck  off  the  head  of  the  person  condemned. 
Now,  on  the  occasion  to  which  this  tale  refers,  and  while  the  "nut'a" 
was  being  fetched,  the  man  about  to  be  killed  shouted  aloud,  "Has  the 
race  of  the  brave  and  virtuous  altogether  perished?"  Receiving  no 
answer,  he  repeated  the  cry  with  yet  greater  emphasis  a  second,  and 
again  the  third  time,  whereupon  the  noble  Abu  Dhur,  who  had  been 
one  of  the  "Sohabah,"  or  companions,  of  Mohammed,  stepped  forward 
and  asked  him  what  he  meant  by  his  cry.  The  man  answered,  "I  have 
killed  a  man  in  anger,  and  though  the  act  was  unpremeditated  I  must 
die  seeing  that  I  am  a  stranger  here  with  none  of  my  people  to  plead 
for  me,  and  that,  besides,  no  blood-indemnity  is  accepted — I  am  content 


372  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

to  bear  the  punishment  of  my  fault,  such  being  the  will  of  Allah.  But 
I  only  ask,  as  a  boon,  that  some  brave  man  would  be  my  surety  for 
twenty-four  hours,  so  that  I  may  return  to  my  tent  to  settle  some  im- 
portant family  affairs,  .after  which  I  promise  to  be  back  here  by  this 
time  tomorrow  in  order  to  suffer  the  punishment  decreed.  I  beg  thee, 
therefore,  to  obtain  this  boon  from  the  Khalifeh,  and  also  to  be  my 
surety."  Abu  Dhur  was  so  impressed  with  the  camel-driver's  words 
and  bearing  that  he  agreed  to  his  request,  begged  'Omar  to  grant  the 
petition,  and  promised  that  in  case  the  man  did  not  return  he  himself 
would  be  ready  to  die  as  his  substitute.  The  petition  was  granted  and 
the  condemned  set  free.  He  started  off  at  a  run,  and  was  soon  out  of 
sight. 

Twenty-four  hours  had  elapsed,  and  as  the  man  had  not  returned, 
the  monarch  gave  orders  that  Abu  Dhur's  life  should  pay  the  forfeit. 
The  hide  was  brought,  spread  in  the  Khalifeh's  presence,  and  Abu  Dhur 
knelt  upon  it  amid  the  lamentations  and  tears  of  his  numerous  friends 
and  kinsmen.  His  hands  were  bound,  and  the  executioner,  in  a  voice 
that  was  heard  above  the  sound  of  universal  wailing,  asked  'Omar 
whether  it  were  indeed  his  will  that  Abu  Dhur  should  die.  '"Yes,"  re- 
plied the  ruler  of  the  Moslem  world,  grimly.  The  executioner  asked 
the  same  question  a  second  time  and  received  the  same  answer,  but,  just 
as  he  was  about  to  pass  on  to  the  third  time  of  asking,  somebody 
shouted :  "By  the  life  of  Allah !  stop  a  moment.  I  see  a  man  running 
in  the  distance ;  perhaps  it  is  he  in  whose  stead  Abu  Dhur  is  about  to 
die."  At  a  sign  from  the  Khalifeh  the  executioner  remained  silent,  and 
tOi  everybody's  astonishment,  the  man  who  was  to  have  been  beheaded 
the  day  before,  rushed  up  breathless,  and  with  the  words,  "Praised  be 
Allah  that  I  am  not  too  late,"  sank  to  the  ground  beside  Abu  Dhur. 

"Fool!"  said  *Omar  to  the  man,  "hadst  thou  stayed  away,  thy  sub- 
stitute would  have  died  in  thy  place  and  thou  wouldst  have  been  free. 
Why  didst  thou  return  ?" 

"In  order,"  said  the  camel-driver,  "to  prove  that  the  race  not  only 
of  the  brave  and  virtuous,  but  also  that  of  the  truthful,  still  exists." 

"Then  why  didst  thou  go  away  at  all?" 

"In  order,"  said  the  man,  who  was  now  kneeling  with  bound  hands 
on  the  spot  from  which  Abu  Dhur,  having  been  set  free,  had  arisen, 
"to  prove  that  the. race  of  the  trustworthy  has  not  yet  perished." 

"Explain  thyself,"  commanded  the  ruler  of  Islam. 

"Some  time  ago,"  said  the  man,  "a  poor  widow  intrusted  some 
valuables  to  my  keeping.  Having  to  leave  our  camp,  I  carried  them 
into  the  desert  and  hid  them  under  a  great  rock  in  a  spot  which  no  one 
but  myself  knows  about,  and  there  they  were  till  yesterday.  .  Had  I 
been  put  to  death  then,  I  should  have  died  with  a  heavy  heart,  knowing 
that  the  poor  woman  was  irreparably  injured.  I  begged  for  a  respite 
in  order  to  be  able  to  restore  her  property  and  now  I  am  ready  to  die 
with  a  light  conscience." 

On  receiving  this  answer  the  monarch  was  silent  for  a  few  seconds. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  373 

and  then,  addressing  the  kneeling  man,  said :  "I  pardon  thee ;  thou  art 
free." 

Why  so,  O  Commander  of  the  Faithful?"  asked  an  aged  and  priv- 
ileged sheik. 

"Because,"  replied  the  Khalifeh,  "the  man*s  conduct  has  convinced 
me  that  he  spoke  the  truth  when  he  said  that  he  had  not  intended  to  kill 
the  owner  of  the  orchard,  but  had  done  so  in  a  moment  of  provocation. 
I  take  the  sin  of  releasing  him  on  my  own  conscience,  and  shall  pay  the 
blood-money  out  of  my  own  private  property.  Besides,  as  it  is  now 
proved  that  the  races  of  the  brave,  virtuous,  truthful,  and  trustworthy 
are  not  extinct,  it  devolves  on  me  to  demonstrate  that  the  race  of  the 
clement  also  still  exists." 


FRED. 

In  his  address  at  the  recent  meeting  of  the  Utah  Teachers'  Associa- 
tion, Superintendent  Driggs  related  the  following  story,  a  real  one, 
which  shows  how  one  of  our  boys  met  a  crisis : 

"Several  years  ago  my  boys  formed  a  sort  of  secret  compact  that, 
no  matter  what  happened,  they  would  protect  each  other  and  not  divulge 
or  confess  to  any  wrong-doing.  Whenever  anything  went  wrong,  it 
was  next  to  impossible  to  ascertain  who  was  to  blame  or  how  it  hap- 
pened. 

"One  day  a  table  was  broken  in  the  play-room.  In  my  endeavor 
to  find  out  who  had  broken  it  and  why  it  had  been  done,  I  had  all  the 
boys,  about  fifty  of  them,  line  up  near  the  broken  table.  A  rigid  "cross- 
examination"  brought  out  no  information.  Finally  I  asked  the  older 
boys  what  they  thought  the  table  was  worth.  Some  said  $2.50,  others 
$1.00  and  so  on.     We  finally  concluded  that  $1.50  was  a  fair  valuation. 

"'Very  well,'  I  said,  ^'11  give  $1.50  for  the  table.  I  know  it  is 
made  of  good  pine,  and  I  can  have  it  repaired  so  that  it  will  be  worth 
more  than  a  dollar  and  a  half.  Really,  boys,'  I  continued,  *I  should 
rather  have  this  old  broken  table  than  all  you  boys.' 

"They  looked  at  me  in  surprise. 

"  *Yes,'  I  added,  T\\  take  the  table  and  pay  the  $1.50,  because  it  is 
worth  it,  and  because  I  know  I'll  not  be  cheated.  But  I'll  not  give  one 
cent  for  a  boy  who  would  stand  up  here  and  lie  for  an  old  pine  table.' 

"They  looked  dismayed  and  chagrined,  and  there  I  left  them. 

"Less  than  half  an  hour  afterwards  there  was  a  knock  at  my  office 
door.  When  I  opened  the  door,  I  was  somewhat  surprised  to  see  the 
leader  of  the  boys.  He  had  had  the  poorest  kind  of  home  environment ; 
his  mother  had  long  since  gone  the  downward  path  of  sin  and  his  father 
had  died  in  the  county  infirmary.  But  I  had  great  faith  in  him  be- 
cause of  his  power. 

"Invited  into  the  office  and  seated,  he  said:  *I  am  ashamed  ol 
myself ;  I  thought  I  was  worth  more  than  a  table.  I  shall  not  tell  a  lie 
to  you  ag^in.' 


374  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

"  'Good  boy,  Fred,  good  boy/  I  said,  taking  him  by  the  hand  and 
patting  him  on  the  shoulder 

"Today  this  young  man  holds  a  responsible  position.  He  is  an 
honest,  honorable  man.  The  incident  was  a  serious  crisis  in  his.  life,  and 
he  met  it  bravely  and  with  manliness.  He  had  hardly  left  the  office 
when,  one  by  one,  several  of.  his  companions  followed  his  example  and 
asked  to  be  forgiven,  promising  to  prove  to  me  that  they  could  be  manly. 

"Since  that  time  we  have  had  little  or  no  trouble  of  this  sort.  On 
the  contrary,  my  boys  find  a  very  uncomfortable  atmosphere  whenever 
they  lack  the  strength  to  speak  the  truth  or  to  make  things  right. 

"Only  a  few  mornings  ago  one  of  the  boys  met  me  at  the  front 
door,  where  he  had  waited  for  nearly  half  an  hour,  to  tell  me  of  his  un- 
fair conduct  in  a  game  of  basket-ball  the  evening  before.  He  wanted 
to  be  the  first  to  tell  me  and  he  wanted  also  to  be  respected  by  his  com- 
rades for  being  brave  enough  to  admit  his  fault.  Again,  just  the  other 
evening,  a  little  fellow  came  to  the  office  and  told  me  he  had  broken  a 
window.  He  said  he  didn't  mean  to  do  it  and  that  he  was  playing 
when  it  happened.  As  I  patted  him  on  the  head  to  encourage  him,  I 
saw  outside  in  the  hall  peeping  through  the  door,  a  half-dozen  or  more 
of  his  playmates.  When  he  joined  them  they  warmly  greeted  him,  and 
I  heard  him  say,  *I  was  honest.'  " — From  The  Educational  Review. 

THE  HONESn  OF  ELINOR. 

Elinor  was  carefully  and  patiently  adding  the  last  long  column  of 
figures  for  her  morning  lesson. 

"Two  and  three  and  nine  and  five  make  nine  and  one  to  carry,"  she 
whispered  to  herself.  Just  as  she  put  down  the  last  figure,  Miss 
Brown's  brisk  voice  announced  the  end  of  the  hour,  and  all  the  grimy 
and  much-erased  "number-papers"  were  made  into  a  neat  pile  and  put 
on  the  teacher's  desk.  As  Elinor  sat  with  hands  folded  in  front  of  her, 
she  was  busy  with  very  pleasant  thoughts. 

"I  worked  very  carefully,"  said  she  to  herself,  "and  probably  Til 
get  a  hundred  per  cent,  and  then  I  can  go  to  the  city  with  father."  For 
at  dinner  yesterday  father  had  said,  "If  any  child  gets  a  hundred  in 
arithmetic  tomorrow,  Til  take  him  to  town  when  I  go  on  Saturday." 

A  trip  to  town  with  father  was  the  greatest  treat  a  little  girl  of  six 
could  possibly  have,  and,  Elinor  thought,  quite  worth  a  good  number- 
paper.  She  ran  all  the  way  to  school  next  morning  to  get  her  standing, 
and,  oh,  joy!  Miss  Brown  smilingly  gave  back  a  paper  with  a  big 
blue-penciled  "100"  at  the  top.  A  radiant  little  girl  answered  que^ions 
and  did  hard  tasks  cheerfully  that  morning,  for  was  not  the  treasure 
hers?  Near  the  end  of  school,  however,  something  happened  to  disturb 
her  joyful  anticipations.  When  they  were  overlooking  yesterday's 
papers  in  class,  Johnny  gave  "54"  for  the  answer  of  a  certain  example. 
Elinor  looked  at  her  paper  for  comparison,  and  found,  to  her  horror, 
that  hers  was  "53."       Johnny  was  right,  for  teacher  said  so,  and  if 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  375 

Elinor  were  wrong,  what  should  she  do  about  her  hundred  per  cent  and 
the  treat?     "Ought  I  to  tell?'*  she  thought,  anxiously. 

Her  decision  was  quickly  made,  and  at  the  close  of  school  a  forlorn 
little  body  waited  in  her  seat  while  all  the  long  files  passed  slowly  by, 
all  gazing  in  wonder  at  poor  Elinor.  When  the  last  footstep  had  gone 
down-stairs  and  out  of  doors,  she  went  to  Miss  Brown  and  explained. 

"Why,  yes,  Elinor,"  said  her  teacher,  **to  be  sure!  How  careless 
I  was  to  mark  that  right  when  it  was  really  wrong !  That  makes  your 
mark  '90,'  doesn't  it?"  and  she  took  out  her  big  blue  pencil,  and  with  it 
made  the  change  that  so  disappointed  all  Elinor's  hopes. 

Elinor  did  not  run  home  with  a  happy  face  that  day ;  in  fact,  she 
couldn't  help  crying  just  a  little.  It  was  very  hard  when  she  had 
worked  so,  and  thought  she  had  won  her  prize !  They  were  half  through 
dinner  when  she  got  home,  and  as  she  stepped  into  the  dining-room, 
father  sang  out,  without  noticing  her  tears,  "Well,  did  you  get  a  hun- 
dred, Elinor?" 

That  brought  the  tears  afresh,  and  she  sobbed  out  the  whole  story 
in  mother's  arms.  When  father  knew,  he  said,  "Why,  come  here, 
childie !  Father's  prouder  of  an  honest  little  girl  than  of  any  number  of 
'hundreds.'  You  were  a  good  child  to  tell  Miss  Brown,"  and  he  kissed 
her  tenderly. 

"I'm  sure  she  understands,"  said  father  to  mother  that  ev.ening, 
"and  I'm  going  to  take  her  anyway.  It  was  a  fine  thing  for  the  little 
thing  to  do.     I  hardly  thought  it  was  in  her." 

On  the  next  Saturday  morning,  in  a  train  bound  for  Boston,  sat  a 
happy  little  girl  who  kept  a  close  grasp  of.  father's  first  finger,  and 
smiled  brightly  at  all  the  other  passengers. 

"Just  think,"  she  said  to  herself,  "if  i  hadn't  told,  I'd  have  come 
just  the  same,  but  I'd  have  felt  so  mean !  And  now  I'm  going,  and  I 
wa?  honest,  too,  and  father  is  pleased.  After  now,"  says  the  wise  little 
lady,  "Fll  always  be  honest  and  truthful,  for  it's  the  very  best  thing 
to  be." — Elizabeth  Crane  Porter. 


"OVER  THE  LEFT." 


"T>- 


I've  got  three  jack  knives,  a  parrot,  a  dog,  and  a  monkey/'  boasted 
Joe,  to  the  new  boy  at  school. 

"Why.  Joe  Allen,  you  know  that's  not  so,"  said  Will,  in  a  low 
tone,  "yjou've  only  one  knife,  and  Bruno." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  laughed  Joe,  I  said  "Over  the  left"  to  my- 
self, so  it  wasn't  a  whopper." 

"It's  all  wrong,"  said  Will,  "and  you  know  it.  It's  a  sneaky  way 
of  lying,  I  think,  and  I'm  ever  so  ashamed  of  you.  You  can't  be  my 
chum,  Joe,  if  you  keep  that  up.  I  don't  want  a  sneak  for  a  chum." 
Will  was  the  best  and  j oiliest  boy  in  school,  and  Joe  was  anxious  to 
be  his  friend.     So  I  hear  he  doesn't  say  "Over  the  Left"  any  more. 


376  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

THE  TRUTH  SAVES  A  LIFE. 

"But  I  cannot  always  tell  the  truth,  rabbi.  My  master  would 
beat  me." 

The  old  prophet's  eyes  blazed,  but  he  bent  over  the  boy  with  a  very 
tender  touch,  and  his  voice  was  sympathetic. 

"Yes,  I  know.  It  is  hard  to  be  a  slave.  But  it  is  better  to  be 
beaten  than  to  get  out  of  a  beating  by  lying.  Every  lie  is  a  chain  on 
the  spirit.  It  makes  one  afraid.  But  one  who  has  spoken  nothing  but 
the  truth  is  free  in  spirit,  even  if  he  is  a  slave  in  body.  God  wants  you 
to  be  free  in  spirit,  Amaziah.*' 

The  boy  was  a  slave  because  he  was  a  Hebrew.  His  people  had 
been  carried  away  captives  to  Babylon  when  Jerusalem  was  taken.  His 
master  was  a  man  of  violent  temper,  and  all  his  household  were  terribly 
afraid  of  him. 

"Deception  is  the  vice  of  slaves,"  says  the  proverb ;  and  to  avoid  his 
harsh  and  not  always  just  punishments,  his  slaves  lied  to  him  on  all 
occasions.  This  only  made  him  more  furious  and  more  cruel  to  them. 
It  took  a  great  deal  of  courage  for  the  boy  Amaziah  to  promise  the 
prophet  to  speak  the  truth  always.     His  resolution  was  soon  tested. 

The  very  next  day  he  dropped  his  master's  favorite  wine  jug  on  the 
mosaic  floor,  and  broke  it  into  twenty  pieces.  The  costly  wine  ran  over 
the  marbles  and  the  smell  came  to  the  nostrils  of  the  master.  He  strode 
out  very  angrily  to  see  what  had  happened. 

"How  did  you  come  to  drop  it?"  he  said  to  Amaziah.  "It  may  not 
have  been  your  fault,  for  you  are  more  careful  than  most  of  my  slaves. 
If  anyone  else  caused  you  to  drop  it,  tell  me  who  it  was  and  he  shall 
have  such  a  beating  as  no  one  has  had  this  year." 

"Say  that  big  Haddi  jostled  you,"  whispered  the  boy  beside  him. 
"He  is  big  and  strong,  and  it  won't  hurt  him  to  be  whipped  nearly  so 
much  as  it  will  hurt  you." 

But,  remembering  his  promise,  Amaziah,  though  trembling,  lifted 
up  his  head  and  said:  "It  was  no  one's  fault  but  mine.  It  slipped  out 
of  my  hand." 

"What !  You  have  the  face  to  confess  it !"  Down  came  the  big 
rod,  and  Amaziah  was  so  badly  beaten  that  he  was  sore  for  days. 

"It  does  not  pay  to  tell  the  truth,"  he  whispered  to  the  prophet  that 
night.     "God  requires  too  much  of  us." 

"God  will  bless  us  for  filling  his  requirements,"  said  the  prophet. 
And  God  did  bless  Amaziah  wonderfully.  His  dearest  friend  Azariah 
was  accused  of  a  dreadful  crime.  He  had  not  done  the  wicked  deed, 
but  his  master  thought  that  he  had.  The  life  of  a  slave  was  in  his 
master's  hand,  and  the  punishment  decreed  to  Azariah  was  death.  Then 
Amaziah  went  to  the  master  and  told  him  just  how  it  was,  and  the 
master  listened  to  him. 

"I  will  believe  you,"  he  said,  "because  you  have  always  told  me  the 
truth.  I  would  not  believe  any  of  the  others,  for  they  lie  to  me  over 
and  over."  And  Amaziah's  truth  saved  his  friend  from  death. — Se- 
lected. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  177 


THE  STOLEN  BLUE  DRESS. 

BY  HILDA  RICHMOND. 

"Do  you  know,  mother,  a  dreadful  thing  happened  while  you  were 
away,"  said  Ruth  as  she  stood  under  the  big  tree,  talking  to  her  mother. 
"Mrs.  Noble  stole  my  blue  dress." 

"Ruth!"  said  her  mother,  looking  shocked.  "How  can  you  say 
such  a  thing?    It  can't  be  true." 

"Well,  she  did,  mother,"  said  the  little  girl  positively.  "Mary  sent 
it  to  her  with  the  wash,  and  when  it  didn't  come  back  with  the  clothes, 
she  sent  for  it.  And  what  do  you  think  Mrs.  Noble  said?  She  said 
she  sent  everything  home  that  was  with  the  wash,  and  she  didn't  at  all." 

"And  have  you  told  anyone  about  this  ?"  asked  her  mother. 

"Why,  nobody  but  Nellie  and  Agnes,  and  Anna,  and  some  more  of 
the  girls,"  said  Ruth.  "You  always  said  it  was  all  right  to  tell  the  truth, 
mother." 

"But  you  are  not  sure  that  it  is  the  truth,"  said  her  mother.  "My 
little  girl  has  been  very  rash  in  telling  things  about  poor  Mrs.  Noble. 
What  if  she  should  lose  her  work  through  your  saying  this  ?" 

"Well,  mother,  she  ought  to  be  honest,"  said  Ruth.  "It  was  my 
new  dress*,  and  I  liked  it  so  much." 

Just  then  Mary  came  in  to  say  that  Mrs.  Noble  was  in  the  kitchen 
and  wanted  to  see  Mrs.  French. 

"I  suppose  she's  bringing  it  back,"  whispered  Ruth.     "I  hope  so." 

But  when  Mrs.  Noble  told  them  all  about  it,  what  do  you  think  had 
happened?  She  had  been  sick  the  week  before,  and  a  kind  neighbor 
had  helped  her  with  her  work.  The  neighbor  did  not  see  well,  so  she 
washed  and  boiled  all  the  pretty,  delicate  blue  out  of  Ruth's  dress,  and 
Mrs.  Noble  did  not  know  it  until  sometime  afterwards. 

"I  will  give  you  the  money  to  buy  Miss  Ruth  a  new  dress,"  said 
Mrs.  Noble,  taking  out  her  thin  pocketbook,  but  Ruth  shook  her  head 
and  burst  out  crying. 

"Tell  her  all  about  it,  mother,"  she  sobbed,  "I  can't." 

So  Mrs.  French  told  her  about  the  naughty  thoughts  Ruth  had 
had,  and  the  poor  woman  forgave  her. 

"Didn't  you  see  the  blue  dress  in  the  basket?"  she  asked.  "It*must 
have  been  there."  And  when  the  basket  was  examined,  the  blue  dress, 
that  now  was  white,  was  right  on  top.  Ruth  and  Mary  could  hardly 
believe  their  eyes,  but  the  buttons  and  trimming  and  everything  showed 
them  what  they  should  have  seen  at  first. 

"I'm  going  to  keep  this  dress  always,  mother,"  said  Ruth,  "tc 
remind  me  of  the  naughty  things  I  said  about  Mrs.  Noble.  I  never 
want  to  forget  it." 


378  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


THE  GOLD  BASKET. 

It  was  only  a  fruit  dish  of  white  china  with  gilt  bands  abound  it; 
but  little  Vie  admired  it  very  much,  and  called  it  **mamma's  gold 
basket." 

One  afternoon,  Aunt  Emily  came  to  make  a  call,  and  mamma 
brought  in  the  basket  filled  with  nice  Florida  oranges.  After  everybody 
had  eaten  an  orange,  and  Aunt  Emily  had  gone,  sister  Anna  set  the 
basket  on  the  kitchen  table,  and  that  was  the  way  the  trouble  began. 

Little  Vie  went  out  there  alone  to  play  with  the  cat.  She  chased 
her  around  and  around  the  room,  till,  by  and  by,  kitty,  growing  tired  of 
the  sport,  jumped  into  a  chair,  and  got  upon  the  table. 

**Come  down!  come  down!"  said  little  Vie.  "You  must  not  smell 
those  oranges  with  your  nose.     Come  down!" 

But  kitty  did  not  come ;  she  was  trying  to  decide  whether  the  beau- 
tiful yellow  balls  were  good  to  eat.  Then  Vie  caught  her  by  the  tail 
and  pulled  her  backward.  She  did  hot  do  it  roughly,  but  somehow  that 
gold  basket  got  in  the  way — perhaps  kitty's  paw  touched  it,  perhaps  it 
was  Vie's  arm ;  but,  at  any  rate,  the  basket  was  overturned,  and  down 
it  fell,  broken  in  pieces  upon  the  floor. 

Vie  stared  in  surprise  at  the  dreadful  ruin,  and  then  stared  at  the 
oranges  rolling,  helter-skelter,  under  the  stove. 

"Who  did  that?    How  did  it  fall?"  thought  she. 

But,  the  next  moment,  it  came  over  her  that  she  was  herself  the 
one  to  blame. 

Why,  I  didn't  mean  to!  That  pretty,  pretty  basket!  What  will 
mamma  say?" 

.  Little  Vie's  forehead  was  full  of  wrinkles,  her  eyes  were  full  of 
tears.  She  stood  so  still  that  you  could  almost  have  heard  the  fly  on 
the  roller  towel  scrape  his  wings. 

"Fll  go  tell  mamma  I  did  it,  and  Fm  so  sorry.  No;  Fll  tell  her 
kitty  did  it — I  guess  kitty  did  do  it.     Naughty  kitty!" 

The  little  girl  moved  one  foot,  and  then  she  stood  still  again.  The 
clock  ticked  very  loud — you  know  how  loud  a  clock  does  tick  sometimes 
— and  the  fly  on  the  towel  gazed  at  Vie,  and  she  gazed  at  the  fly. 

"No ;  I  won't  tell  mamma  anything;  I  won't  go  in  the  parlor  at  all. 
Fll  go  out  in  the  yard,  and  then  mamma  will  think  kitty  broke  the 
basket ;  for  kitty  will  be  in  here  all  alone." 

Vie  took  three  steps  toward  the  outside  door,  and  then  she  stood 
still  again,  and  the  clock  ticked  worse  than  ever.  It  seemed  as  if  the 
clock  was  watching  to  see  Vie  make  up  her  mind,  and  as  if  that  old  fly 
was  watching,  too. 

"Tick,  tock — if  you  go  and  leave  the  kitty  in  here  alone,  it  will  be 
the  same  as  a  lie — tick,  tock — same  as  a  lie."  It  wasn't  the  clock  that 
said  that,  but  it  sounded  just  like  the  clock. 

"Will  it  be  the  same  as  a  lie,  a  true  lie?"  said  the  child.     And  then 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  379 

she  looked  at  the  fly,  who  nodded  his  head,  and  kept  nodding  it.  Vie 
knew  he  didn't  mean  "yes,"  but  it  seemed  just  as  if  he  meant  yes.  "I 
will  not  tell  a  lie,"  said  Vie,  turning  her  back  to  the  outside  door,  and 
putting  her  foot  down  hard ;  "I  will  not  tell  a  lie."  And  with  that  she 
ran  into  the  parlor ;  for,  if  she  walked,  she  was  afraid  that  she  might 
not  go  at  all.  She  ran  every  step  of  the  way  as  fast  as  she  could  run, 
and  sobbed  out : 

"0  mamma,  it  wasn't  the  kitty ;  it  was  me !  But  I  didn't  mean  to 
at  all !" 

And  her  mamma  kissed  her,  and  said  she  knew  it  was  an  accident. 
— Selected. 


NOT  A  BIT  TOO  WARM. 

HIS  FUR  COAT. 

The  Bumble  Bee  a  fur  coat  wears. 
And  yet  the  summer  through 
He  doesn't  seem  a  bit  too  warm, 

With  all  he  has  to  do! 


THE  LITTLE  SNORER. 

A  little  girl  I  used  to  know. 

Named  Arabella  Drake, 
Was  always  falling  fast  asleep 

When  she  should  be  awake. 

At  church,  or  school,  in  consequence. 

She  was  a  troublous  bore, 
For  she  would  sit  and  blink  and  nod — 

And  snore,  and  snore,  and  snore ! 

At  length  her  folks  in  their  distress 

An  odd  plan  did  propose ; 
It  was  to  place  a  clothes-pin — so, 

On  Arabella's  nose ! 

And  when  the  children  laughed,  and  nudged. 

And  giggled  in  surprise. 
Miss  Arabella  woke  right  up 

And  opened  wild  her  eyes. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  381 

For  hours  and  hours  the  clothes-pin  thus 

Miss  Arabella  wore, 
And,  though  she'd  nod  and  drowse  at  times, 

She  never  once  could  snore. 

And  when  they  took  the  clothes-pin  off 

And  set  her  small  nose  free, 
She  vowed  no  more  she*d  go  to  sleep 

Till  sometime  after  tea! 

— Kate  Wallace  Clements. 


MILLY'S  TEMPTATION. 

BY  LELIA  MIJNSELL. 

Milly  threw  her  schoolbooks  on  the  table  with  an  air  of  discourage- 
ment. "It's  no  use,  mamma,  she  announced.  "I  just  can't  keep  from 
whispering.  Sometimes  I  won't  say  anything  but  just  to  ask  for  a 
pencil  or  a  knife.  It  doesn't  seem  to  me  I  ought  to  stay  in  just  for  that, 
when  everybody  else  in  the  room  whispers  all  the  time,  most.  I  never 
whisper,  mamma  just  for  the  fun  of  it,  and  the  rest  do.  I  don't  see 
how  Mr.  Burton  can  help  seeing  them,"  and  Milly  looked  appealingly 
at  her  mother. 

Mrs.  MacDonald  laid  down  the  book  she  was  reading.  "It  does 
seem  unjust,  Milly.  But  after  all,  that  doesn't  have  anything  to  do  with 
the  real  question,  you  know." 

"Yes,  I  know.  I  can't  help  it  if  the  others  are  dishonest.  But  it 
does  make  me  mad  to  have  to  stay  in  every  recess  when  I  know  there 
isn't  another  one  in  the  room  who  hasn't  whispered  more  than  I  have.  I 
don't  believe  I  could  story  about  it  like  the  others  do,  mamma.  If  I 
can't  keep  from  whispering,  I  can  keep  from  telling  a  lie  about  it,  any- 
way. But  it  does  seem  to  me  Mr.  Burton  isn't  very  smart  or  he  would 
surely  know  there  was  a  lot  of  whispering  going  on." 

Mrs.  MacDonald  made  no  reply.  She  and  Milly  had  talked  the 
whole  matter  over  often  and  there  was  nothing  new  to  be  said.  In  her 
heart  she  sympathized  fully  with  her  little  daughter,  but  she  did  not 
think  it  best  to  tell  her  so  directly. 

Mr.  Burton,  the  principal  of  the  Lakin  schools,  was  young  and 
inexperienced,  and  consequently  full  of  beautiful  theories  as  to  how 
a  school  should  be  managed.  He  had  yet  to  learn  that  theory  and 
practice  were  often  at  sword's  points.  His  pet  theory  related  to  whis- 
pering. All  the  books  on  school  management  that  he  had  read  had 
said  that  in  a  model  school  there  would  be  no  whispering,  and  he 
had  fondly  believed  that  such  a  condition  of  affairs  could  be  established 
in  the  Lakin  schools.  Accordingly,  he  had  announced  on  the  first  day 
that  there  was  to  be  absolutely  no  whispering  without  permission.  The 
pupils  had  looked  rather  sober  for  a  day  or  two,  but  fifty  boys  and  girls 


382  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

in  the  grammar  grade  of  a  village  school  will  soon  lose  respect  for  a 
rule  which  they  find  the  teacher  has  no  means  of  enforcing,  and  it 
was  not  long  before  everybody,  as  Milly  said,  whispered. 

At  first  Mr.  Burton  personally  undertook  to  detect  and  punish  the 
offenders.  But  he  found  this  plan  full  of  difficulties.  More  often  than 
otherwise,  those  whom  he  accused  of  whispering  would  deny  the  accu- 
sation and  suggest  that  there  were  others  more  guilty  than  they.  He 
was  not  strong  enough  as  a  teacher  to  enforce  his  word  against  theirs. 
But  he  had  no  thought  of  setting  aside  the  rule.  He  tried  monitors, 
but  that  plan,  too,  was  a  failure.  At  last,  in  desperation  he  decided 
upon  the  self -reporting  system,  and  here,  he  fancied,  he  was  successful. 
So  far  as  he  could  see  the  plan  worked  admirably.  Before  each  dis- 
missal for  recess  he  would  announce  that  all  who  had  whispered  were  to 
remain  in  their  seats  while  the  others  passed  out.  For  a  day  or  two, 
almost  the  whole  room  had  remained,  but  the  number  gradually  dimin- 
ished, until  Milly  MacDonald  was,  apparently,  the  only  transgressor. 

On  one  or  two  occasions  the  teacher  had  congratulated  the  school 
on  this  improvement  in  their  deportment,  and  the  pupils  had  made  great 
sport  of  his  guilelessness  behind  his  back.  In  such  matters  as  evad- 
ing punishment  for  whispering  the  conscience  of  the  average  boy  and 
girl  is  not  very  tender,  and  the  untruth  which  they  were  obliged  to  tell 
to  secure  their  recesses  troubled  them  but  little.  But  Milly  remained 
true  to  her  teaching  and  her  principles.  She  was  a  sturdy  little  soul, 
and  the  blood  of  her  Scottish  ancestors  held  her  straight  in  the  path 
of  uprightness  and  honesty. 

"You're  silly,''  said  the  others.  "There's  no  sense  in  your  staying 
in  every  time  you  whisper.  The  teacher  would  never  know  the  dif- 
ference." 

Milly,  however,  had  steadily  and  quietly  put  aside  the  temptation. 
Indeed,  it  could  hardly  be  said  that  it  was  a  temptation.  She  tried 
hard  to  keep  from  whispering,  but  when  she  failed  in  this,  as  she  often 
did,  she  had  no  thought  of  evading  the  punishment  by  telling  a  lie.  She 
fretted  under  the  injustice  of  it  all,  but  to  her  straightforward  little 
soul  there  seemed  to  be  but  one  thing  to  do. 

"It  isn't  that  I  mind  staying  in  so  much,"  she  confided  to  her  father 
and  mother.  "But  I  do  hate  to  have  Mr.  Burton  think  I'm  the  worst 
pupil  he  has  when  I  never  whisper  unless  I  forget  and  the  others  whis- 
per all  the  time." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  MacDonald  had  talked  the  matter  over  and  had  de- 
cided that  it  was  best  to  let  Milly  fight  her  own  battle. 

"It  is  unjust,"  said  her  mother.  "I  can't  blame  her  for  feeling 
bitter  about  it.  I  believe  she  has  stayed  in  every  time  yet  when  she  has 
whispered,  but  she  is  growing  more  and  more  rebellious  and  I  am  afraid 
the  temptation  will  be  too  much  for  her  in  the  end." 

"The  child's  as  honest  as  the  day,"  said  Mr.  MacDonald.  "It  is 
hard,  I'll  admit,  but  it  isn't  doing  her  any  hurt.  She's  getting  a  good 
deal  in  the  way  of  character-building  if  she  isn't  getting  anything  else. 
If  she  does  yield  to  the  temptation  to  tell  a  lie  about  it,  she  will  confide 


I 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  383 

in  us  I  believe,  and  until  then  I  think  the  best  thing  to  do  is  to  let 
her  work  out  her  own  salvation/' 

So  the  matter  was  decided  and  while  Mr.  and  Mrs.  MacDonald 
were  always  ready  to  listen  to  their  daughter's  grievances,  they  seldom 
made  any  comment,  except  to  urge  her  to  refrain  entirely  from  whisper- 
ing. 

Milly  knew  nothing  of  all  this,  of  course.  "I  just  am  not  going  to 
whisper  today,"  had  been  her  last  word  as  she  left  for  school  that 
morning.  But,  as  usual,  she  had  forgotten,  and  even  her  sturdy  spirit 
was  discouraged. 

"I  just  don't  believe  I'll  try  not  to  whisper  any  more,  mamma,"  she 
said,  after  a  pause.  "I  can't  keep  from  it  altogether,  and  if  I  have  to 
stay  in  any  way,  I  might  just  as  well  whisper  all  I  want  to." 

"What's  that?"  asked  her  father,  coming  in  at  that  moment. 

"Well,  papa.  I  just  mill  whisper  in  spite  of  everything,  it  seems, 
and  then  of  course  I  have  to  stay  in."  And  I  don't  see  why  I  mightn't 
just  as  well  whisper  all  I  want  to.    I  can't  keep  from  it  altogether." 

"I'd  call  that  a  coward's  way,"  said  her  father,  as  he  passed  on 
through  the  room. 

Milly  looked  after  him  with  a  half  frown.  "I  suppose  that  means 
ril  have  to  try  again  tomorrow,"  she  remarked,  half  to  herself. 

"I  certainly  shouldn't  give  up  yet,  dear,"  said  her  mother. 

The  next  morning  at  breakfast  Mr.  MacDonald  asked:  "How 
about  whispering  today,  daughter?" 

Milly  laughed.  "I  guess  I  had  a  fit  of  the  blues  last  night.  I  feel 
like  trying  again  this  morning.  I  suppose  I'll  fail  as  I  usually  do.  But 
I'm  going  to  try  any  how." 

When  school  was  called  the  next  day  at  noon  there  was  a  feeling  of 
suppressed  excitement  among  the  pupils.  Three  of  the  larger  boys, 
leading  spirits  in  all  kinds  of  mischief,  had  deliberately  "played  hookey" 
and  were  even  then  contentedly  sunning  themselves  on  the  slope  of  a 
nearby  hill.  There  was  not  a  very  wholesome  respect  for  the  teacher's 
authority  current  in  the  school  but  this  was  the  most  flagrant  breach 
of  discipline  that  had  occured  yet,  and  there  was  considerable  specula- 
tion as  to  the  outcome.  The  most  of  the  pupils  expected  some  amuse- 
ment when  the  teacher  should  discover  the  truancy.  Milly  shared  in 
the  excitement  although  she  could  not  help  feeling  a  little  shocked  at 
the  cause  of  it. 

It  was  Mr.  Burton's  habit  to  call  the  roll  every  half  session.  He 
noted  the  three  absences  and  asked  if  anyone  knew  any  thing  about 
them.  There  was  no  response  and  the  school  proceeded  appearently 
as  usual.  But  many  a  furtive  glance  was  cast  out  of  the  windows  in 
search  of  the  runaways,  who  had  declared  their  intention  of  remaining 
near  the  scholhouse,  "where  Old  Burton  could  see  them  if  he  wanted 
to." 

The  last  class  before  recess  was  reciting  when  Josie  Martain,  who 
sat  just  behind  Milly,  nudged  her  and  whispered :  "I  see  them.  They're 
under  that  big  oak  tree." 


384  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Milly  looked.    "Where  ?"  she  whispered  back,  "I  can't  see  them." 

Josie  was  not  the  only  one  who  had  discovered  the  truants.  Half 
the  pupils  were  craning  their  necks  in  the  direction  of  the  big  oak. 

"May  I  inquire  what  is  the  cause  of  all  this  commotion?"  asked 
Mr.  Burton  in  his  most  dignified  manner. 

There  was  a  pause  and  one  or  two  of  the  g^rls  giggled.  Then 
one  of  the  boys  jerked  his  thumb  in  the  direction  of  the  truants.  "Those 
boys  are  over  there.  Guess  they  must  have  played  hookey  instead  of 
going  home." 

Mr.  Burton's  gaze  followed  the  thumb  and  there,  in  plain  sight  were 
the  boys,  insolently  flaunting  their  daring  in  the  face  of  the  whole  school. 

The  young  teacher  prided  himself  on  his  dignity.  He  reflected  that 
it  would  never  do  to  let  the  pupils  see  how  much  he  was  disturbed.  Ac- 
cordingly, he  proceeded  with  the  recitation  in  the  usual  manner  and 
prepared  for  dismissal. 

"Those  who  have  not  whispered  are  dismissed  for  recess,"  he  an- 
nounced as  usual.     "You  may  pass  down  quietly  without  marching." 

He  himself  took  his  hat  and,  going  quickly  down  stairs,  started 
across  the  prairie  toward  the  boys,  while  the  pupils,  instead  of  passing 
out,  crowded  to  the  windows  to  watch  the  chase. 

"Come  on,  Milly,"  cried  Josie.  "Let's  climb  up  on  a  desk.  We 
can  see  better  there." 

Milly  hesitated  a  moment,  then  shook  her  head.  "I  can't,  I  whis- 
pered," she  said. 

"StuflF  and  nonsense.     Everybody  whispers.     Come  on." 

But  Milly  remained  in  her  seat  though  her  eyes  turned  longingly 
toward  the  windows  where  the  others  were  crowding  and  jostling  in 
their  efforts  to  see. 

The  boys  had  waited  quietly  until  Mr.  Burton  was  almost  upon 
them  and  then  had  scattered  in  diflFerent  directions,  and  he  had  given 
chase,  first  to  one,  then  another.  It  was  a  peculiarity  of  his  that  he 
always  wore  low  slippers  and  these  flopped  up  and  down  as  he  ran, 
while  his  coat  tails  straightened  in  the  breeze.  He  was  really  a  pretty 
good  runner,  but  the  three  boys,  by  working  together,  were  easily  able 
to  escape  him.  His  spirit  was  up,  however,  and  he  was  determined  not 
to  be  beaten.  Round  and  round  he  darted,  just  missing  the  boys,  and 
the  chase  grew  more  and  more  exciting. 

All  this  Milly  knew  from  the  clamorous  exclamations  of  those  at 
the  windows  and  her  heart  grew  rebellious  within  her.  If  she  could 
only  see  the  fun !  If  they  would  stand  aside  a  little  perhaps  she  could 
see  some  of  it  from  her  seat.  Any  way,  they  didn't  have  as  much  right 
to  be  there  at  the  window  as  she  did.  All  of  them  had  whispered  over 
and  over  again  and  never  reported,  while  she  had  stayed  in  every  time 
she  had  broken  the  rule.  It  wasn't  right.  Surely,  it  was  silly  for  her 
to  stay  in  her  seat  when  the  teacher  would  never  know  nor  care.  It 
seemed  to  her  she  had  never  wanted  to  see  anything  so  badly  in  all 
her  life. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  385 

Just  then  some  one  cried:     'They've  gone  round  the  foot  of  the 
hill.    We  can't  see  them  from  here  any  more.     Let's  go  down  on  tiie 
road.     We  can  see  them  from  there  all  right."    And  forthwith  there 
^  was  a  scampering  down  stairs. 

"Come  on,  Milly,"  cried  first  one  and  then  another,  "you're  missing 
all  the  fun.  What's  the  use  in  your  staying  up  here  all  alone  ?  Come 
on. 

Milly  had  almost  made  up  her  mind  to  go.  What  harm  would  it 
.do  just  this  once  ?  Surely  Mr.  Burton  hadn't  expected  anyone  to  stay 
in  this  recess.     He  had  spoken  about  it  merely  from  force  of  habit. 

"Oh,  come  on  down,  Milly,"  said  Ed  Whittemore,  the  biggest  boy 
in  school,  stopping  at  her  desk  as  he  passed.  "Everybody  whispers.  I 
whisper  all  I  want  to  but  I'm  not  going  to  stay  in  for  it.  There's  no 
harm  in  lying  about  a  little  thing  like  that." 

.  Scwnehow  and  somewhere,  as  he  spoke,  Milly  had  found  herself 
again. 

*T^o,  I  can't  do  it,  Ed.  It  would  be  a  lie,  if  it  is  about  a  little  thing. 
I — don't — see  how — the  rest — of  you — can — do — it." 

Her  chin  was  quivering  and  the  tears  stood  in  her  eyes,  but  she 
bravely  choked  back  the  lump  in  her  throat  and  turned  to  her  geography 
which  lay  open  on  the  desk  before  her. 

Ed  looked  at  her  for  a  minute.  "I  guess  you're  right,"  he  said. 
"It's  a  measly  old  rule,  but  I  suppose  that  doesn't  excuse  us  for  lying." 

Poor  Milly !  When  he  had  gone  she  laid  her  head  on  the  desk  and 
sobbed  bitterly.  The  sense  of  injustice,  against  which  she  had  rebelled 
for  the  past  month  was  added  to  the  keenness  of  her  present  disappoint- 
ment. The  others  were  enjoying  rare  fun  and  they  had  not  as  much 
right  to  it  as  she  had.  She  kiiew  she  had  done  right,  but  for  the  time 
that  knowledge  did  not  make  it  any  easier  for  her. 

That  evening  when  she  told  her  father  and  mother  about  it  her 
heart  was  still  sore.  "I  never  wanted  to  do  a  thing  that  was  wrong  so 
bad  in  all  my  life,"  she  confessed.     "But,  oh,  I'm  so  glad  I  didn't  do  it." 

Mrs.  MacDonald  looked  across  at  her  husband,  then  kissed  the 
tear-stained  face  very  tenderly.  "You  have  won  a  victory,  daughter," 
she  said. 

"Yes,  a  victory-  that  will  affect  your  whole  Hfe,"  added  Mr.  Mac- 
Donald. 


« « 


Boys  and  girls,  suppose  you  look  at  the  men  and  women  who 
fit  your  highest  ideals.  See  what  virtues  they  have.  Then  take  a 
look  at  yourself.  How  many  of  their  good  things  do  you  possess  ?  Do 
you  think  you  will  find  anything  to  root  out,  to  try  to  avoid  in  the 
future? 


386  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

GINGER  BREAD  AND  SPICES  AND  OTHER  THINGS. 

School  days  are  not  always  happy  days,  even  though  on  some  of 
them  you  may  have  a  lovely  time  talking  about  flowers  and  reading 
interesting  stories  from  the  First  Reader.  It  was  one  of  the  days  when 
it's  all  geography  and  arithmetic  and  spelling  with  Nellie,  and  she 
watched  the  clock  impatiently.  She  was  going  for  the  first  time  to 
make  a  "really,  truly"  visit ;  to  stay  away  from  home  all  night,  and  at 
six  years  old  that  is  a  great  event. 

Aunt  Mollie  had  invited  her,  and  you  may  be  sure  it  did  not  take 
Miss  Nellie  long  to  say  "Yes."  For  at  Aunt  Mollie's  there  were  such 
lovely  things.  First,  of  course,  there  was  Aunt  Mollie  herself,  with 
her  happy,  cosy,  jolly  ways.  Then  there  were  the  cunning  dishes  that 
Aunt  Mollie  used  to  use  when  she  had  tea-parties  ever  so  many  years 
ago,  and  there  was  a  great  big  Paris  dolly  that  Aunt  Mollie  had  brought 
home  all  the  way  across  the  ocean.  And  Nellie  was  never  tired  of 
hearing  the  story  of  how  that  dolly  had  been  almost  lost  to  Aunt  Mollie, 
and,  of  course,  to  all  her  little  nieces,  by  a  big  wave  which  came  up  on 
to  the  deck  of  the  ship,  and  tried  to  wash  dolly  and  the  red  cape  on  whfch 
she  was  taking  a  nap  overboard ;  and  of  how  a  brave  sailor  had  grabbed 
Dqlly,  very  wet  and  frightened,  just  at  the  rail,  and  had  slipped  and 
nearly  been  lost  himself  in  the  act,  and  of  how  Grandpa  Frothingham 
was  so  pleased  with  what  the  sailor  had  done  that  he  gave  him  some 
money,  and  afterward  a  place  in  his  store.  And  when  the  story  always 
wound  up,  "And  do  you  know  that  James,  our  own  James  who  drives 
the  carriage,  is  his  son — that  very  sailor's  son?"  Nellie,  like  the  rest 
of  the  nieces,  always  clapped  her  hands  with  delight. 

There  were  many  delights  at  Aunt  Mollie's,  and  so  Nellie  hated 
geography  and  longed  for  the  clock's  hands  to  reach  one  o'clock.  And, 
of  course,  by  and  by  they  did.  Luncheon  over,  two  hours  later,  a 
proud  little  girlie  insisted  on  carrying  all  by  herself  a  big  satchel  as 
she  trudged  by  mother's  side.  It  was  a  long  ride  on  the  trolley  car  to 
Aunt  Mollie's  house,  which  was  almost  in  the  city,  even  though  it  had 
a  pretty  garden  around  it  and  vines  all  over  the  veranda.  A  new 
Maltese  cat  and  three  darling  kittens  were  such  a  joyous  discovery  that 
polite  little  Nellie  had  all  she  could  do  to  remember  her  manners  and 
say  "How  do  you  do?"  to  Aunt  Mollie  and  a  strange  lady  who  was 
calling.  Bright  red  neck  ribbons  made  the  kittens  particularly  charming, 
and  tiny  silver  bells  on  the  ribbons  made  their  playful  ways  musical 
as  well  as  amusing.  The  wonderful  Paris  doll  of  old  acquaintance 
had  small  attention  given  her  because  of  the  kittties.  When  they 
scampered  over  the  lawn  among  the  tiny  blades  of  new  Spring  gprass, 
they  were  so  dear  that  Nellie  couldn't  resist  their  charms,  and  she 
followed  them  around  to  the  back  porch  and  through  the  kitchen  door. 
And  there  new  delights  w^ere  waiting  for  her,  for  Norah  was  making 
gingerbread  for  supper. 

"Oh,  please,  may  I  watch,  Norah  ?  pleaded  Nellie,  and  Norah,  who 
adored  her,  said. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  387 


"*Deed  an'  you  may,  darlin';  and  it's  a  gingerbread  cat  I'll  be 
making  for  ye." 

It  was  very  interesting,  Nellie  thought,  to  watch  the  butter  and 
sugar  and  molasses  go  into  the  bowl,  and  to  think  how  they  would  all 
come  out  a  nice  cake.  But  the  most  enlivening  part  of  the  performance 
was  when  Norah  shook  a  bit  of  ginger  and  cinnamon  and  this  and 
that  into  the  dough.  She  didn't  measure,  but  just  guessed  at  the 
amount,  and  then,  when  she  thought  she  had  put  in  enough,  she  tasted 
it,  and  gave  Nellie  a  bit  of  a  taste,  too. 

"Now,  how's  that,  me  dear?"  she  asked,  and  Nellie  could  only 
truthfully  say,  "Delicious"  while  she  licked  her  little  doughy  fingers. 
Norah  certainly  was  a  very  clever  person,  for  she  not  only  made  a  cat 
out  of  the  rolled  dough,  but  she  made,  too,  a  little  girl  and  a  pug 
dog  for  Nellie  to  take  home  to  Sue  and  Willie.  And  her  admiring 
spectator  decided  that  when  she  grew  up,  if  she  was  smart  enough, 
she*d  be  a  cook  herself.  Oh,  the  pride  of  shaking  spices  into  things  with 
a  practiced  hand ! 

"What's  in  that  bowl,  Norah?"  she  asked,  and  was  charmed 
when  she  heard  that  it  was  apple  sauce  for  supper. 

"Now,  it's  eyes  they  do  be  wantin',  sure,"  laughed  Norah;  "wait 
a  bit  till  I  go  and  get  some  bits  of  loaf  sugar,"  and  she  waddled  away 
to  the  dining-room.  Temptation  now  took  hold  of  Nellie;  she  must 
be  a  cook,  too,  and  flavor  things.  The  ginger  cage  was  ready  for  the 
oven,  but  the  apple  sauce  was  not  finished  and  she  would  try  her  hand 
at  it.  One  after  another  of  the  spice  boxes  she  uncovered  and  shook  in  a 
little,  and  stirred  in  the  mixture.  A  voice  from  the  hall  startled  her, 
and  a  little  more  than  usual  of  one  nice,  grayish  kind  went  in.  She  de- 
cided, as  she  ran  oflF  to  say  good-bye  to  mother,  that  she  must  be  sure 
to  taste  it  as  soon  as  she  came  back. 

But  Aunt  Mollie  hurried  her  off  to  get  ready  for  a  drive,  and 
the  cooking  was  forgotten.  Not  another  thought  did  she  give  to  it 
until  the  sight  of  a  gingerbread  cat  stalking  proudly  across  her  napkin 
reminded  her,  as  she  sat  down  to  supper,  and  she  looked  around  for 
the  apple  sauce.  Inhere  it  was,  in  the  big  blue  and  white  glass  bowl 
she  had  always  admired.  Probably  Norah  had  tasted  it  and  added 
anything  that  was  necessary. 

Uncle  Jim  loved  applesauce  even  better  than  his  small  niece  did, 
and  he  was  the  first  to  take  a  taste  of  it. 

"Whit  on  earth's  the  matter  with  this  applesauce?"  he  cried. 

And  Miss  Nellie,  who  was  all  ready  to  say  with  pride  that  she  had 
given  the  finishing  touches,  sat  with  eyes  and  mouth  wide  open  and  a 
growing  belief  that  she'd  best  not  say  much  about  her  part  in  the  work. 

A  cautious  tasting  all  around  convinced  the  family  that  the  pepper 
had  been  upset  in  the  apple  sauce,  and  you  may  be  sure  it  was  not 
eaten.  Nellie  was  quite  sure  she  couldn't  eat  any,  anyway,  because  she 
had  such  a  lump  in  her  throt,  and  her  heart  felt  like  a  lump  of  lead 
inside  of  her.  All  her  ambition  to  be  a  cook  had  quite  gone.  She  knew 
now  that  she  would  never  be  clever  enough,  for  how  was  anybody  but 


388  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

an  awfully  clever  person  to  know  that  that  nice  looking  gray  stuff 
would  spoil  the  apple  sauce  ? 

At  bedtime  she  wondered  whether  she  must  tell  Aunt  Mollie  about 
it,  but  she  hardly  dared.  She  made  up  her  small  mind  that  no  great 
harm  had  been  done,  and  that  no  one  need  know  of  her  mortification 
and  disappointed  hopes. 

But  just  as  she  was  nearly  ready  for  bed  Uncle  Jim's  voice  sound- 
ed in  the  hall,  and  he  put  his  head  in  the  door. 

"Mollie,  do  give  Norah  a  blowing  up  about  that  apple  sauce,"  he 
said;  "it's  awfully  careless  to  do  such  a  thing.  Suppose  we'd  had 
company." 

"Yes,  I  will,  Jim,  as  soon  as  I  tuck  Nellie  in." 

"Oh,  dearie  me!"  wailed  a  small  voice  from  the  pillow;  "Uncle 
Jim,  she  mustn't  blow  up  Norah,  'cause  it  was  me,  and  I  know  it's 
scand'lous,  but  I  hope  you  won't  tell  grandpa.  Must  he  know  it?  I'd 
like  him  not  to  'spise  me  that  much." 

Uncle  Jim  just  shouted  with  laughter,  -which  Nellie  was  doubtful 
whether  to  consider  a  good  or  a  bad  sign,  but  Aunt  Mollie  gave  the 
worried  little  girlie  a  nice  little  lecture,  of  keeping  her  fingers  out  of 
other  people's  business,  and  Miss  Nellie  went  off  to  dreamland  and 
danced  jigs  and  sailed  boats  on  seas  of  apple  safuce  with  a  ginger  bread 
sailor  for  a  captain. 


BALKY. 

BY  GENE  MOORE. 

He  had  answered  to  the  name  of  Balky  since  he  was  a  baby,  and 
had  nearly  forgotten  that  he  had  a  right  to  any  other.  With  his  mother, 
father  and  little  sister  Nelly,  he  lived  in  one  of  the  tenements  that  are  a 
disgrace  to  the  city  of  New  York.  Surrounded  by  vice  from  his  earliest 
recollections,  beaten  by  a  father  whose  only  thought  was  to  obtain  drink, 
Balky  had  reached  the  age  of  fourteen  without  getting  into  any  serious 
trouble,  owing  to  the  teaching  of  his  mother.  She  had  even  striven  to 
teach  honesty  and  uprightness  to  her  children.  Balky's  greiatest  desire 
was  to  earn  enough  money  to  take  his  mother  and  sister  out  of  their 
present  surroundings.  He  hated  to  see  his  mother's  face  so  sad,  and  to 
witness  the  shrinking  of  little  Nelly  when  their  father's  stumbling  foot- 
steps sounded  on  the  stair.  But  Balky  found  that,  while  it  was  easy  to 
look  for  a  job,  it  was  hard  to  find  one. 

Nobody  wanted  such  a  shabby  fellow.  Many  times  he  had  been 
looked  upon  with  suspicion  and  watched  until  he  was  safely  in  the  street 
again.  At  night  he  came  home,  tired  and  hungry,  with  only  a  few  pen- 
nies, the  proceeds  from  newspapers  which  he  sold  on  his  quest  for  work. 
"It  ain't  no  use  being  honest,"  he  said,  despairingly,  one  night,  as  he 
threw  himself  into  a  chair,  tired,  hungry  and  wet.  "No  one  believes 
I'm  honest.     They  think  I'm  a  thief,  so  I  might  as  well  be  one.     I  had 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  389 

better  take  the  job  in  the  saloon  old  Billings  offered  me.     I'd  be  earning 
something/' 

"And  losing  your  chance  of  becoming  an  honest  man,"  his  mother 
.  answered,  quickly.     "Don't  give  up,  Balky.     *It's  a  long  lane  that  has  no 
turn,'  and  honest  always  wins  in  the  end." 

He  sat  for  a  moment  in  sullen  silence,  then  brightened  up.  "All 
right,  mother,"  he  said.     "I'll  get  a  job  this  week  if  trying  will  find  it." 

So,  bright  and  hopeful,  the  next  morning  he  started,  and  the  pro- 
grams of  the  preceding  days  were  gone  over,  but  with  no  better  results. 
It  was  dark  when  he  started  for  home,  and  he  strode  along,  whistling 
merrily.  Most  of  the  stores  were  closed  and  dark,  and  the  streets  were 
nearly  deserted,  so  when,  passing  a  certain  store,  a  man  rushed  out, 
nearly  upsetting  him,  and  disappeared  around  the  comer,  he  was  sur- 
prised. The  store  was  dark,  and  the  man  left  the  door  wide  open  behind 
him.  Balky  hesitated,  paused,  and  finally  went  back  to  the  store.  Stop- 
ping, he  peered  in,  trying  to  pierce  the  gloom  beyond  the  door.  Then, 
as  no  one  was  in  sight,  he  grew  more  bold  and,  going  to  the  door,  looked 
in  very  cautiously. 

At  first  he  could  see  nothing,  but  as  his  eyes  became  accustomed 
to  the  dark  he  discovered  that  it  was  a  jewelry  store.  The  blinds  were 
closely  drawn,  and  the  street  was  dark,  so  when  Balky  thought  he  saw  a 
flash  of  light  a  little  way  from  him  he  started  in  alarm.  There  was  no 
one  in  sight,  and  no  one  in  the  store.*  Suddenly  an  overwhelming 
thought  came  to  him.  Here  was  a  chance  to  get  the  means  to  take  his 
mother  and  Nelly  away !  No  one  had  seen  him — he  had  only  to  steal 
in  and  take  a  few  pieces,  just  a  few.  As  this  thought  passed  through  his 
mind  he  went  near  the  door  and  he  saw  again  the  little  flash  from 
within.  He  was  puzzled  but  not  frightened,  for  he  heard  not  the  slight- 
est sound.  Noiselessly  he  entered  the  store  and  stole  toward  the  light, 
which  as  he  drew  near  turned  to  red,  while  a  dozen  other  little  lights 
flashed  frbm  near  the  same  place.  He  stood  still  and  gasped.  Jewels ! 
Diamonds!  "If  these  were  mine  mother  could  go  away  and  have  a 
nice  new  dress,  and  Nelly  could  have  a  coat  like  one  worn  by  a  little 
girl  that  lived  in  a  big  brick  house  on  Fifth  Avenue.  They  could  give 
father  some  money  and  leave  him  behind,  and  have  plenty  to  eat,  a  warm, 
fire,  and  oh,  so  many  things!"  Balky's  hand  had  nearly  grasped  the 
jewels,  when  he  shivered  and  drew  back.  It  would  be  stealing!  His 
mother  would  not  take  them.  He  would  be  no  better  than  his  father, 
who  cursed  all  day  and  drank  all  night.  A  hard  battle  between  right 
and  wrong  raged  in  Balky's  heart,  then  he  drew  his  shabby  little  figure 
to  its  full  height.  No,  his  mother  should  see  that  he  had  not  forgotten 
what  she  taught  him ;  and  shutting  his  lips  tightly,  without  another 
glance  at  the  jewels,  he  walked  out  of  the  store. 

Still  no  one  in  sight.  What  should  he  do  ?  Perhaps  the  man  that 
had  come  out  was  a  thief  and  was  making  his  escape.  At  the  thought 
Balky's  face  flushed  hotly.  Then  closing  the  door,  he  walked  rapidly  up 
the  street.     He  remembered  passing  a  policeman,  who  surely  could  not 


390  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

have  gone  far.  Balky  could  run  like  a  deer,  so  the  two  blocks  were 
quickly  traversed,  and  at  the  end  of  the  next  block  was  a  policeman. 
Balky  soon  reached  him,  breathless  and  excited.  At  first  the  officer 
would  pay  no  attention  to  him,  but  finally  consented  to  go  back  to  the 
store  with  him,  and  investigate  the  matter,  himself. 

Entering  the  store,  the  officer  struck  a  match  and  looked  around. 
Uttering  an  exclamation,  he  lighted  one  of  the  gas  jets  and  then  stooped 
over  a  dark  object  lying  on  the  floor.  Balky,  who  had  followed,  saw 
that  it  was  a  man  with  a  blood-stained  face,  apparently  unconscious. 
Upon  investigation,  it  was  learned  that  he  was  the  proprietor  of  the 
store,  Mr.  Gibson.  He  had  been  knocked  down  by  some  unknown  man, 
who  came  in  as  he  was  putting  the  jewels  into  the  safe  before  closing 
the  store.  Evidently  the  man  had  become  frightened,  and,  turning  out 
the  light,  fled,  as  there  was  nothing  missing. 

After  Balky*s  address  had  been  taken  he  was  allowed  to  go.  Hurry- 
ing home,  he  acquainted  his  mother  with  his  adventure. 

The  next  morning,  as  Balky  was  eating  his  breakfast,  there  came 
a  tap  on  the  door,  and  Mr.  Gibson,  the  jeweler,  entered.  "Don't  that 
beat  all!"  muttered  Balky,  as  Mr.  Gibson  inquired  if  he  had  employ- 
ment, and  if  not,  whether  he  would  like  to  work  in  the  jewelry  store,  as 
he  was  looking  for  such  a  boy  to  help  him. 

It  was  agreed  that  Balky  should  begin  his  duties  the  following  day, 
to  be  paid  four  dollars  a  week  and  an  increase  if  he  suited.  The  face  of 
Balky*s  mother  was  aglow  with  pride  and  joy  as  she  turned  to  him  after 
closing  the  door  after  Mr.  Gibson.  "I  told  you  if  you  persisted  you 
would  find  work." 

"Yes,  mother,"  Balky  answered.  "But  I  didn't  find  the  job— it 
found  me." 

Balky  was  rapidly  promoted,  and  soon  earned  the  means  to  carry 
out  his  wishes  regarding  his  mother  and  sister.  His  frankness,  honesty 
and  devotion  to  duty  won  him  many  friends. 


A  BACKSLIDER. 


•i »' 


A  minister's  little  girl  and  her  playmate  were  talking  about  serious 
things.    "Do  you  know  what  a  backslider  is?"  she  questioned. 

"Yes ;  it's  a  person  that  used  to  be  a  faithful  Christian  and  isn't, 
said  the  playmate  promptly. 

"But,  why  do  you  s'pose,  they  call  them  backsliders?" 

"Oh,  that's  easy.  You  see,  when  people  are  good,  they  go  to 
church  and  sit  up  in  front.  When  they  get  a  little  tired  of  being  good, 
they  slide  back  a  seat,  and  keep  on  sliding  till  they  get  clear  back  to 
the  door.  After  a  while  they  slide  clear  out,  and  never  come  to  church 
at  all."— Selected. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


THE  FIRST  PRIMARY  TEACHERS'  CLASS 

BY  ULLIE  T.  FREEZE. 

A  forest  grand  from  the  acorn  springs. 
Fed  by  the  sunshine,  the  rain  and  the  winds. 
The  years  creep  by  and  a  Nation  sings 
Of  the  mighty  oak  and  the  wealth  it  brings. 

A  Primary  Class  is  a  little  thing 
Inspired  by  faith,  but  a  force  will  begin. 
Nurtured  by  love,  increased  by  prayer, 
'Till  a  mighty  structure  is  reared  with  care. 

May  the  new  born  class  yet  prove  to  be 
The  root  of  wondrous  primary  tree ; 
Its  branches  spreading  to  ev'ry  stake. 
Where  all  may  of  its  fruit  partake. 

God  bless  our  Pioneer  Teachers'  Class; 
May  it  honored  be  as  time  shall  pass, 
For  courage  of  .faith  has  the  pioneer 
To  bravely  tread  while  others  fear. 

Rich  be  the  harvest  of  seed  now  sown 
For  the  generations  yet  unknown. 
Till  Zion  shall  sing  in  triumphant  tone: 
"See  how  the  primary  work  has  grown." 


The  Baby's  Page 

A  BY  DON    likes    sweet  green 
peas,  and  says,  "More,  Mama, 
if  you  please!"    Or  that  is  what 
he  tries  to  say,  and  Mama  knows  his 
"Ma  la  lay!"  and  gives  him  more,  and 
Papa  sees  how  well  Don  eats  the  sweet 
young  peas.      The  fourth  and  twenty- 
fourth  will   come   and   Baby  Don   will 
beat  his  drum.    J 
the  months  counts 
Keep  us  always, 
in  Heaven. 

— L..  Lula  Greene 


Sketch — Lee  Gri 


OFFICERS'  DEPARTMENT 

Ob 


TO  PRESIDENTS  AND  SECRETARIES. 

At  this  writing,  June  13,  several  stakes  have  failed  to  send  in  their 
monthly  reports.  While  we  are  sensible  of  the  many  difficulties  to  be 
overcome,  we  again  urge  renewed  zeal  on  the  part  of  Stake  officers,  and 
trust  that  all  local  workers  will  profit  by  the  example  set  them.  As  the 
fomis  are  new  this  year,  Stake  aids  should  be  instructed  in  the  use  of 
them.  Fifteen  minutes  time  spent  with  a  delinquent  local  secretary  may 
enable  a  visiting  officer  to  bring  a  report  away  with  her,  thereby  greatly 
assisting  the  Stake  secretary. 

Local  reports  should  be  made  out  the  first  meeting  day  in  each 
month,  and  Stake  reports  should  be  in  this  office  by  the  fifteenth ;  they 
are  to  be  in  the  monthly,  not  quarterly.  As  secretaries  are  not  always 
subscribers  to  The  Children's  Friend,  we  suggest  that  instructions 
given  in  the  Officers'  Department  of  the  magazine  be  read  in  the  prepar- 
ation meetings,  both  stake  and  local.  •  In  the  case  of  a  local  worker 
failing  to  respond  to  the  requirements  made  of  her,  kindly  call  the 
matter  to  the  attention  of  the  Bishop.  It  might  be  well  to  mail  him  a 
blank,  asking  him  for  the  desired  information.  Please  see  that  all  wards 
are  reported  before  sending  in  your  statement  to  us,  and  where  wards 
are  disorganized  or  not  holding  meetings,  record  the  fact.  A  six 
months'  supply  of  report  blanks  were  sent  to  each  stake,  sufficient  to 
enable  all  secretaries,  stake  and  local,  to  keep  duplicate  copies.  Our 
new  minute  book,  just  issued,  contains  bound  duplicates.  It  is  unwise 
to  record  minutes  on  loose  sheets  of  paper ;  all  associations  should  be  in 
possession  of  this  book. 

CONDENSED  REPORT  OF  THE  ELEVENTH  ANNUAL  CON- 
FERENCE OF  PRIMARY  WORKERS 

Of  the  Church  of  Jesus  Christ  of  Latter-day  Saints,  Held  in  Salt  Lake 

City,  Utah,  June  6,  7,  8,  191 3, 

The  Primary  Workers  throughout  the  Church  are  to  be  congrat- 
ulated and  commended  for  the  good  results  of  their  work  which  was 
made  manifest  during  the  late  conference. 

The  attendance,  while  not  so  large  as  in  1912,  was  very  gratifying, 
every  Stake  was  represented  but  one,  including  the  General  Board  there 
were,  in  answer  to  roll  call,  744  officers  present.  This  attendance  indi- 
cates a  desire,  on  the  port  of  the  workers,  to  be  in  sympathy  and  unity 
with  the  General  Board,  to  take  advantage  of  all  opportunities  that  are 
offered  for  the  advancement  of  the  work,  as  well  as  demonstrating  an 


394  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

energy  and  an  enthusiasm  that  speaks  well  for  the  healthy  growth  of 
the  Primary  work  everywhere. 

The  annual  report^  printed  elsewhere,  is  another  evidence  of  the 
good  work  being  accomplished  by  the  workers,  in  every  department, 
with  one  exception,  there  is  a  marked  increase,  the  total  enrollment 
showing  an  increase  of  2,198  during  the  year  1912. 

The  addresses  given  were  inspiring  and  full  of  suggestion  for  the 
uplift  and  development  of  the  Primary  ideals.  Many  words  of  com- 
mendation and  comfort  were  said  for  the  benefit  of  the  Officers.  There 
were  many  good  speakers,  whose  kindness  in  giving  time  and  the  ben- 
efits of  their  valuable  experiences  were  highly  appreciated ;  the  presence 
of  some  of  the  brethren  of  the  Council  of  the  Twelve  added  very  much 
to  the  success  of  the  conference,  because  of  the  satisfaction  it  gives  to 
the  sisters  to  know  that  the  labors  which  they  perform  are  recognized 
and  approved  by  those  in  authority. 

The  music,  under  the  direction  of  the  Chorister  of  the  General 
Board,  Sister  Emma  Ramsey  Morris,  was  a  feature  of  all  the  sessions, 
the  results  which  had  been  developed  in  the  Primary  Teachers'  Class 
were  of  such  a  character  as  to  inspire  all  who  listened  with  the  feeling 
that  there  would  be  a  decided  improvement  in  the  general  singing  of 
the  Primary  associations  when  the  methods  of  Sister  Morris  were  put 
into  practice  with  the  children.  . 

The  Social  was  a  success,  the  Deseret  Gymnasium  was  nicely  dec- 
orated and  the  costumes  were  a  beautiful  sight.  When  the  Primar)' 
Teachers*  Class,  all  dressed  in  crepe  paper,  of  pretty  color,  and  design, 
led  by  Apostle  Hyrum  Smith  and  President  Louie  B.  Felt,  marched 
around  the  hall  there  was  a  burst  of  applause  from  all  present,  and  the 
verdict  was  that  the  costume  party  was  indeed  a  success. 

The  program  rendered  on  Sunday  evening  was  especially  good ;  it 
was  well  worked  out,  was  interesting  and  instructive.  The  recitations 
in  concert  by  the  children  of  the  Primary  associations  were  very  cred- 
itably given;  the  boys  were  from  the  Salt  Lake  Stake,  director.  Miss 
Dollie  Ashton;  the  girls  came  from  the  Pioneer  Stake,  Miss  Karma 
Thatcher,  director. 

Primary  officers  are  invited  to  consider  this  part  of  the  conference 
as  being  very  suitable  for  a  Sunday  program  for  the  associations.  The 
music  could  be  of  a  simpler  character,  the  younger  children  do  the 
concert  work  and  the  older  ones  give  the  talks  on  the  life  of  David. 

On  account  of  the  Primary  Teachers'  Class  the  General  Board  did 
not  expect  as  large  an  attendance  as  usual,  and  because  of  the  arduous 
labors  of  the  members  of  the  Board  and  the  class  it  was  deemed  wise  not 
to  attempt  much  in  the  way  of  demonstration  work  for  this  conference, 
yet,  now  that  it  is  over,  it  is  the  truth  to  say  that  the  spirit  of  enthusiasm 
and  good  feeling  on  the  part  of  all  present  at  the  conference  bore  testi- 
mony to  the  fine  condition  of  the  Primary  associations  throughout  the 
Church  and  the  General  Board  take  this  opportunity  of  thanking  all 
who  came,  and  with  their  presence  and  kindly  feelings  helped  in  the 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 


395 


general  success,  and  to  all  those  who  gave  of  their  talents  so  willingly 
and  made  possible  a  conference  that  was  educational,  uplifting  and  full 
of  the  spirit  of  the  Gospel. 

REPORT  OF  PRIMARY  OFFICERS  PRESENT  AT  THE  CON- 
FERENCE FOR  1913. 

General  Board 23 


STAKES. 


Alberta 1 

Alpine    19 

Bannock 7 

Bear  Lake IS 

Bear  River 6 

Beaver    

Benson 15 

Big  Horn 2 

Bingham    6 

Blackfoot     9 

Box  Elder 9 

Cache  14 

Cassia 10 

Carbon  5 

Davis    83 

Deseret    11 

Duchesne 1 

Emery    1 

Ensign    13 

Fremont 19 

Granite 66 

Hyrum   10 

Jordan    18 


Juab   

Juarez    

Kanab    

Liberty 

Malad 

Maricopa   

Millard    

Moapa    

Morgan    

Nebo 

North   Sanpete  . 
North   Weber  . . 

Ogden    

Oneida   

Panguitch    

Parowan    

Pioneer    

San  Juan  

Pocatello    

Rigby   

Salt  Lake 

San  Luis  

Sevier     


7 
1 
2 

14 
2 
1 

12 
1 
3 

10 
4 
8 

14 

14 
1 
3 

33 
6 

17 
9 

40 
1 
9 


Snowflake    2 

South   Sanpete  . .  10 

St.  George 3 

St.  John 1 

Star  Valley 2 

St.  Joseph   4 

Summit    5 

Taylor ^   2 

Teton   *   2 

Tooele 24 

Uintah    i 

Union 1 

Utah 24 

Wasatch 29 

Wayne   4 

Weber    20 

Woodruff 23 

Yellowstone    ....  9 

Young    3 


Total 744 


REMARKS   BY   PRESIDENT   LOUIE   D.    FELT, 

f 
Of  the  Primary  Association,  in  the  Tabernacle,  June  8,  1913. 

By  brethren  and  sisters,  while  in  my  heart  I  shrink  from  this  posi- 
tion, because  of  the  timidity  that  I  cannot  overcome,  I  assure  you  that 
I  would  love  to  know  that  I  may  have  your  faith  and  prayers  for  the 
few  moments  that  I  shall  stand  before  you.  I  feel  it  an  honor  to  have 
this  privilege,  because  I  feel  it  a  great  honor  to  be  numbered  among 
those  noble  men  and  women  with  whom  it  is  my  pleasure  to  associate, 
and  I  pray  that  our  Father  in  heaven  will  keep  me  humble,  that  I  may 
always  be  found  in  the  path  of  duty. 


396  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

I  feel  proud  to  represent  the  great  organization  of  the  Primarv 
work.  I  believe,  my  brethren  and  sisters,  that  we  stand  in  numbers 
second  in  the  Church,  or  at  least  in  the  auxiliary  organizations  in  the 
Church.  I  believe  the  Sunday  School  outnumber  us  because  they  have 
them  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave.  We  are  limited  in  our  numbers 
from  the  age  of  four  to  fourteen  years.  But  I  am  proud  to  state  that 
we  have  officers  and  members,  seventy  thousand  and  four,  enrolled  in 
our  work  in  the  year  1912,  and  I  believe  if  we  were  to  search  all  over 
the  world  we  could  not  find  more  energetic,  hard  working  people  than 
our  officers  in  the  Primary  Association.  They  work  with  love  as  their 
motto.  We  have  the  little  ones  to  deal  with,  and  to  me  it  is  a  most 
beautiful  mission,  "for  of  such  is  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven,'*  and  our 
officers  are  working  for  the  uplifting  of  the  children  of  God,  and  they 
have  in  their  hearts  a  desire  to  accomplish  good  in  their  work. 

I  believe  we  have  the  honor  to  have  the  first  class  of  workers  ever 
called  together  here  in  our  Church.  We  have  had  one  hundred  and 
thirty  workers  here  for  the  last  six  weeks  studying  along  the  lines  that 
we  want  our  officers  to  work  in.  We  have  them  from  Canada  to  New 
Mexico.  Fifty-six  stakes  were  represented  in  our  class,  and  I  am  proud 
to  say  that  not  one  of  them  has  gone  astray  in  any  way.  They  have 
been  true,  faithful,  ioyal,  hard  working  sisters.  And  I  ask  our  sister 
association  and  our  brother  association,  that  as  we  pass  on  our  boys  and 
girls  into  their  association,  that  they  will  give  to  these  sisters  who  have 
been  here  working  so  faithfully  and  so  well  their  faith  and  prayers,  that 
when  they  go  back  to  their  stake,  that  they  may  be  able  to  remember 
and  give  out  to  those  who  will  assemble  together  to  be  taught  by  them, 
that  they  may  be  able  to  teach  what  they  have  learned  from  their  teach- 
ers here.  Our  teachers  were  members  of  the  General  Board,  and  I  wish 
that  all  of  you  could  have  seen  how  well  those  classes  were  conducted, 
and  what  a  great  and  good  work  they  have  done.  Our  Father  in  heaven 
has  especially  blessed  us,  and  our  stake  officers  who  chose  the  sisters 
to  come  here,  chose  wisely  and  well.  There  were  no  frivolous  ones 
among  them.  They  were  staid,  earnest  workers,  and  as  we  are  indeed 
earnest  in  our  work,  as  it  is  a  work  that  is  near  and  dear  to  our  hearts 
we  want  to  enthuse  all  who  are  interested  in  our  work,  that  they  may 
be  faithful  and  true,  and  that  love  shall  be  their  motto,  and  that  God 
will  bless  ev.ery  sister  and  every  brother — for  we  have  the  brethren 
with  us  in  our  different  stakes  to  assist  and  help  us,  we  are  glad  to  get 
all  the  help  that  can  be  given  to  us,  and  we  are  grateful  to  President 
Smith,  that  he  has  permitted  the  brethren  to  come  in  and  help  us  in  our 
labor  of  love. 

I  pray  that  God  will  bless  and  give  to  our  beloved  Prophet  life, 
health  and  strength,  that  he  may  live  as  long  as  life  is  desirable  to  him. 
and  that  he  may  be  blessed  far  beyond  that  which  he  may  desire,  and 
that  we  may  all  remain  faithful  and  true,  and  that  when  we  pass  away 
we  may  meet  with  those  who  have  gone  before,  who  have  been  faithful 
and  true. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  397 

God  bless  you,  my  brethren  and  sisters,  and  help  us  to  do  our  duty 
here  upon  the  earth,  is  my  prayer  in  the  name  of  Jesus.     Amen. 

SOME  PRIMARY  ASSOCIATION   HISTORY. 

Address  By  Lillie  T,  Freeze, 

Eliza  R.  Snow  was  the  secretary  of  the  first  Relief  Society  which 
was  organized  in  Nauvoo.  After  its  disbandment  in  Nauvoo  there  was 
no  organization  of  women  until  the  year  1866  when  President  Brigham 
Young  called  Sister  Eliza  R.  Snow  to  take  Sister  Zina  D.  Young  and 
travel  throughout  the  Church  to  organize  women  in  the  Relief  Society. 
Three  hundred  societies  were  soon  organized,  each  doing  a  noble  work. 

In  1878  Aurelia  Spencer  Rogers  was  inspired  to  think  of  a  society 
for  the  children,  especially  the  boys  who  seemed  to  be  growing  up 
without  the  best  of  supervision.  The  matter  was  brought  to  the  atten- 
tion of  Eliza  R.  Snow,  who  was  much  impressed  with  the  thought ;  in 
company  with  Emmeline  B.  Wells  she  went  to  President  John  Taylor, 
laid  the  matter  before  him,  received  his  approval  to  organize  and  went 
to  work. 

On  the  11th  of  August  of  the  same  year  Aurelia  Spencer  Rogers 
was  set  apart  to  preside  over  the  first  Primary  organization  in  the 
Church,  this  organization  was  in  Farmington,  Utah.  In  a  sisters  meet- 
ing held  in  the  Fourteenth  Ward  Assembly  Hall,  September  14,  1878, 
Louie  B.  Felt  was  nominated  by  Eliza  R.  Snow  to  preside  over  the 
first  Primary  organized  in  Salt  Lake  City,  in  the  Eleventh  Ward. 

In  1869  President  Brigham  Young  organized  his  daughters  into  a 
society  which  was  known  as  the  Retrenchment  Association  and  which 
later  came  to  be  known  as  the  Y.  L.  M.  I.  A.  The  sisters  were  filled 
with  the  spirit  of  organization  and  the  work  went  on  with  such  zeal,  it 
grew  and  spread  until  it  was  deemed  necessary  to  organize  Central 
Boards,  as  they  were  then  called,  to  control  the  interests  of  the  growing 
local  and  stake  associations.  Accordingly  on  the  18th  of  June  in  the 
year  1880,  the  Relief  Society  held  a  meeting  in  the  Assembly  Hall, 
Mary  I.  Home  presiding.  On  the  day  following,  at  10  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  a  meeting  of  the  Primary  associations  of  the  city  was  held 
in  the  Tabernacle,  the  middle  seats  of  which  were  filled  with  children. 
The  first  business  transacted  was  to  nominate  a  President  and  Coun- 
selors over  the  Salt  Lake  Stake  Primary  Associations.  Ellen  Spencer 
Clawson,  a  sister  of  Aurelia  S.  Rogers,  was  sustained  as  President  with 
Camilla  C.  Cobb  and  Annie  Davis  as  Counselors. 

Sister  Eliza  R.  Snow  then  nominated  Mrs.  Louie  B.  Felt  as  Gen- 
-eral  President  to  preside  over  all  the  Primary  associations  in  all  the 
Stakes  of  Zion,  which  was  unanimously  accepted.  Mrs.  Matilda  M. 
Barrett  and  Clara  M.  Cannon  were  sustained  as  counselors  to  President 
Felt.  Mrs.  Lillie  T.  Freeze  was  appointed  as  secretary  and  Minnie 
Felt  as  treasurer. 

President  John  Taylor  then  addressed  the  congregation,  blessing 
the  children  and  the  sisters  with  Eliza  R.  Snow  at  their  head. 


398  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

Mrs.  Mary  I.  Home  moved  and  Mrs.  Sarah  M.  Kimball  seconded 
the  motion  that  President  John  Taylor  publicly  appoint  Eliza  R.  Snow 
as  President  of  all  the  Relief  Societies.  She  was  then  nominated  by 
President  John  Taylor  and  was  sustained  as  President.  Eliza  R.  Snow- 
then  chose  Zina  D.  Young  and  Elizabeth  Ann  Whitney  as  her  counsel- 
ors, and  they  were  sustained  by  the  conference,  also  Sarah  M.  Kimball 
as  secretary  and  Mary  I.  Home  as  treasurer. 

Saturday  afternoon,  June  19th,  1880  the  conference  was  held  in  the 
Assembly  Hall,  Mary  A.  Freeze  presiding. 

On  motion  of  Eliza  R.  Snow,  the  Central  Board  of  the  Y.  L.  M.  I. 
A.  was  organized.  Elnima  S.  Taylor  was  sustained  as  President,  with 
Maggie  Y.  Taylor  and  Martha  Home  as  counselors,  Louise  Wells  as 
Secretary  and  Fanny  Y.  Thatcher  as  treasurer.  Thus  we  see  that  all 
of  the  General  Boards  of  the  Womens  Organizations  and  the  Stake 
Board  of  the  Salt  Lake  Stake  Primary  Associations  were  organized  at 
the  same  conference.  The  General  Board  of  the  Primary  Associations 
was  organized  first  and  Louie  B.  Felt  has  been  the  only  President, 
having  held  the  position  for  33  years,  including  the  two  years  of  work 
done  previous  to  her  appointment  as  General  President  she  has  labored 
for  the  children  for  35  years.  Thus  we  note  that  Louie  B.  Felt  has 
stood  shoulder  to  shoulder  with  the  great  women  of  tjjis  age,  magni- 
fying her  position  with  gentle  and  loving  dignity;  with  unswerving 
loyalty  to  God  and  His  priesthood;  working  for  the  highest  ideals  in 
the  spiritual  progress  of  the  children  of  Zion.  Too  much  cannot  be 
said  in  her  honor,  but  her  life  historv  will  be  written  hereafter. 

We  are  very  much  indebted  to  Emmeline  B.  Wells,  General  Presi- 
dent of  the  Relief  Societies,  who  as  editor  of  the  Women's  Exponent, 
has  preserved  for  us  the  most  authentic  history  of  the  womans  organiz- 
ations in  the  Church;  her  personal  labors  in  behalf  of  all  of  them  have 
been  and  are  invaluable  to  the  Saints.  In  the  early  days,  there  were  a 
host  of  women  who  worked  with  the  utmost  zeal  and  devotion  in 
establishing  the  different  departments  of  womens  work.  Their  labors 
were  not  confined,  as  now,  to  special  work,  but  all  helped  each  other, 
in  traveling,  giving  counsel,  and  encouragement  and  in  the  splendid  ex- 
amples which  were  manifested  in  their  daily  lives. 

I  have  gone  into  detail  trying  to  record  correct  history,  now  so 
hard  to  obtain,  of  the  first  few  years,  but  now  that  **Like  Sketches  by 
Aurelia  S.  Rogers  and  'The  Children's  Friend''  may  be  kept  in 
every  association  for  future  reference,  I  hope  the  history  of  the  Pri- 
mary work  will  be  better  understood. 

At  the  end  of  the  first  decade  there  were  17,434  children  enrolled. 
They  had  been  taught  to  sing  and  pray  alone,  and  in  concert ;  to  stand 
up  and  bear  testimonies  to  the  truth,  answer  questions  on  many  sub- 
jects, boys  and  girls  were  called  on  to  open  and  dismiss  meetings,  to 
pray  in  concert,  to  keep  the  Word  of  Wisdom,  to  pay  tithings,  and 
many  other  things  for  their  improvement. 

Now  the  work  is  more  systematic  but  we  are  still  building  on  these 
foundations  of  earlier  years. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  399 


ANNUAL  REPORT  OF  THE  PRIMARY  ASSOCIATION 

Of  the  Church  of  Jesus  Christ  of  Latter-day  Saints,  for  the  year  ending 

December  31,  1912. 

1911  1912 

Number  of  Associations  in  Church 732  755 

Number  of  Associations  reported 705  706 

Number  of  General  Board  Officers 28  28 

Number  of  Stake  officers 742  780 

Number  of  Local  officers 8,931  8,818 

Number  of  boys  of  Primary  age 37,524  37,814 

Number  of  girls  of  Primary  age 41,798  41,901 

Total  number  of  children  of  Primary  age 79,322  79,715 

Number  of  regular  meetings  held 24,783  23,866 

Number  of  regular  meetings  not  held. 8,547  8,890 

Number  of  preparation  meetings  held 12,343  12,175 

Number  of  Sunday  conferences  held 563  530 

Number  of  special  meetings  held 973  1,025 

Number  of  visitors  during  the  year 16,640  19,893 

ENROLLMENT. 

Boys.  Girls. 

1911  1912 

First  Grade   5,931  6,342 

Second  Grade   5,549  5,643 

Third  Grade 5,244  5,404 

Fourth  Grade 4,403  4,444 

Fifth  Grade  2,790  2,991 

Totals 23,917     24,849 

1911  1912 

Total  number  of  children  enrolled. 58,105        60,278 

Total  number  of  officers  and  children 67,806        70,004 

AVERAGE  ATTENDANCE.  1911  1912 

Stake  officers   448  493 

Local  officers 5,028  5,073 

Boys 8,815  9,729 

Girls 16,021  17,231 

Total 30,312        32,526 

Number  children  enrolled  whose  parents  are  not  Church  members  1,289 
Number  children  enrolled  one  of  whose  parents  is  not  a  Church 

member 1,810 

Number  children  not  enrolled  at  end  of  year 17,859 


1911 

1912 

7,970 

8.125 

7,138 

7,305 

7,231 

7,540 

6,472 

6,517 

5,377 

5,917 

34,188 

35,429 

400  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

ENTERTAINMENTS.  1911  1912 

Number  of  dances 1,087  1,126 

Socials   1,154  1,107 

Concerts 1,253  249 

Fairs 128  172 

LIBRARY  REPORT.  1911  1912 

Children's  books 5,287  5,426 

Song  books  6,781  7,254 

Offii^ers'  books   4,013  4,810 

Number  books  loaned  from  library 4,686  4.366 

Number  officers  taking  Children's  Friend 5,291  5,110 

Number  members  taking  Children's  Friend 1,373  1,133 

FINANCIAL  REPORT. 

Receipts. 

Balance  on  hand  last  report $  6,052.39 

Received  during  the  year  1912 19,548.56 

Total  receipts $25,600.86 

Disbursements. 

Nickel  Fund $  2.753.64 

Hospital  Fund   1,072.96 

Temples  162.24 

Stake  Houses  or  Tabernacles 464.60 

Ward  Meeting  Houses 4,623.79 

Schools  and  Academies 287.50 

Missionaries  295.30 

Charities   774.26 

Books 3,600.42 

Other  properties 1,373.74 

Other  purposes 6,113.86 

Total  disbursements $21,522.31 

Cash  on  hand  December  31 $  4,078.55 

Total $25,600.86 

REPORT  OF  STAKE  BOARDS. 

Number  meetings  of  Stake  Boards 1,378 

Number  meetings  of  Stake  and  Local  Officers 639 

Number  visits  made  by  Stake  Boards 4,615 

FINANCIAL  REPORT  OF  STAKE  BOARDS. 

Received  by  Stake  Boards  during  year  1912 $6,394.05 

Cash  disbursed  since  last  report 5,61852 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  401 


STORIES  TRUE  AND  FALSE. 

BY   HOWARD  R.'  DRIGGS. 

The  child  very  frequently  asks  the  story  teller  this  question,  "Is  it 
true?"  and  the  story  teller  is  put  to  her  wits'  end  to  know  just  how 
to  answer  the  question.  The  mother  is  distressed  when  the  child  asks, 
"Is  there  a  Santa  Claus?"  A  good  many  parents  have  been  very 
much  perturbed  when  teachers  in  the  district  schools  have  given  to 
children  stories  that  seemed  to  them  false,  untrue — absurd,  in  fact. 
Parente  have,  very  legitimately,  questioned  the  right  of  the  teacher  to 
impose  upon  the  child  some  of  these  stories. 

I  want  to  face  with  you  today,  squarely,  the  problem,  "What  are 
true  stories,  and  what  stories  are  false  ?"  I  think  it  is  a  child's  right  to 
have  stories  that  are  true.  But  I  do  not  believe  that  we  have  any  right, 
on  the  other  hand,  to  limit  a  child  to  the  story  that  is  simply  true  to 
fact.  If  we  do  this  we  shall  leave  out  the  parables  of  Christ  as  well  as 
a  great  many  other  wonderfully  true  stories  that  are  not  true  to  fact  and 
yet  they  are  true. 

There  are  diflferent  kinds  of  true  stories.  A  story  may  be  true  to 
fact;  it  may  actually  have  happened,  and  everything  in  the  story  is  just 
as  it  did  happen  so  far  as  the  story  teller  has  the  power  to  present  it 
to  you. 

A  story  may  be  true  to  fact  and  may  be  a  good  story,  but  simply 
because  it  is  true  to  fact  is  no  sign  that  it  is  a  good  story.  There  are 
other  ways  in  which  a  story  may  be  true.  A  story  may  be  true  to  life 
without  being  true  to  fact ;  and  a  story  may  be  true  to  truth. 

The  story  of  the  "Bird's  Christmas  Carol"  by  Kate  Douglas  Wig- 
gins, the  story  of  "The  Great  Stone  Face"  by  Hawthorne,  and  a  thous- 
and other  stories  that  I  might  mention  are  not  true  to  fact.  The  events 
in  them  probably  never  happened  except  in  the  mind  of  the  one  who 
created  them.  At  the  same  time,  we  cannot  discard  these  stories  be- 
cause they  are  true  to  life  and  they  may  help  us  to  interpert  life  far 
better  than  we  could  without  them.  Many  a  story  has  opened  the  eyes 
of  the  world  to  a  condition  and  has  helped  to  solve  that  condition. 

I  think  nothing  has  ever  done  more  to  bring  about  the  proper 
observation  of  the  Spirit  of  Christmas  than  Charles  Dickens'  "Christ- 
mas Carol"  and  yet,  his  characters  are  all  created ;  nobody  can  read  that 
wonderful  story  without  having  a  greater  love  for  his  fellow  men, 
and  a  stronger  desire  to  be  more  charitable.  Such  a  story  is  true  to 
life. 

The  story  may  also  be  true  to  truth.  It  may  bring  to  the  mind  of 
the  one  who  hears  it.  some  truth,  illuminated,  held  up  in  the  great  light 


402  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

which  a  story  can  throw  upon  a  truth.  The  parables  of  Christ  are  in- 
stances of  this.  As  I  tried  to  point  out  to  you  yesterday,  it  was  an 
oriental  habit  to  teach  the  truths  of  life  by  means  of  stories.  People 
can  remember  a  great  truth  when  it  is  clothed  in  flesh  and  blood; 
when  it  is  put  into  living,  breathing  form.  We  can  remember  the  truth 
that  is  taught  in  the  Prodigal  Son,  far  longer  because  it  comes  to  us  in 
the  form  of  human  beings  in  action. 

I  understand  that  your  problem  is  somewhat  different  from  the  prob- 
lem of  the  day  school  teacher.  One  of  the  things  upon  which  you  lay 
stress  in  your  primary  work  is  the  spiritual  upbuilding  of  the  child. 
Some  people  would  say  that  you  want  to  give  him  a  moral  story,  but  I 
rather  believe  that  when  you  take  that  word  "moral"  in  its  narrow  sig- 
nificance, that  you  want  to  do  more  than  teach  him  morals;  you  wish 
to  give  him  a  real  spiritual  uplift. 

Now,  sometimes,  a  moral  story,  strictly  speaking,  defeats  its  own 
purpose.  The  moral  story  may  be  very  good,  but  if  its  moral  is  the  only 
thing,  then  you  are  likely  to  disgust  the  child  with  it.  If  the  story  is 
good  in  spite  of  the  moral,  you  are  likely  to  get  the  truth  pretty  well 
impressed  in  the  child's  mind.  In  his  parables,  Christ  does  not  insist 
on  the  moral. 

There  are  three  kinds  of  stories  from  the  moral  stand-point:  the 
moral  story ;  the  immoral  story ;  and  there  is  the  unmoral  story.  The 
immoral  story,  we  certainly  do  not  want.  The  moral  story,  is  the  one 
which,  in  your  work,  will  receive  and  should  receive  the  most  emphasis. 
There  may  be  a  place  for  the  unmoral  story  too  even  in  your  work. 
The  story  of  "Little  Black  Sambo,"  the^  story  of  "The  Three  Bears," 
the  story  of  "The  Ginger-bread  Man,"  the  story  of  the  "Wonderful 
Wizard  of  Oz,"  and  other  like  stories  are  told  simply  because  they  give 
entertainment — because  they  are  beautiful.  Such  stories  may  be  given 
sometimes,  simply  as  a  rest  exercise.  They  do  not  mean  to  teach 
a  moral. 

Sometimes  the  teacher  should  put  a  rose  or  other  flower  on  her 
table.  Why?  Is  there  any  moral  in  the  rose?  Is  there  any  moral  in 
the  snow"  capped  mountains?  No,  they  are  simply  beautiful,  that  is  all, 
and  beauty  is  its  own  excuse  for  being. 

A  beautiful  story  may  have  a  spiritual  uplift  which  we  cannot 
measure,  and  yet,  it  may  carry  no  special  moral.  We  don't  plant  lawns 
in  front  of  our  houses  because  of  any  moral  they  teach  us.  And  do 
we  clean  up,  of  a  Sunday  because  of  any  moral  in  that  act?  In  it 
is  something  that  makes  us  better.  If  we  can  get  the  child  to  live  in  an 
atmosphere  of  perpetual  beauty,  we  have  gone  a  long  way  in  teaching 
him  to  take  a  delight  in  things  godly,  because  God  is  beautiful. 

There  are  some  kinds  of  so-called  moral  stories  that  I  think  em- 
body an  untruth.  Here  is  an  illustration :  "Johnny  was  a  good  littie 
boy.    Jimmie  was  a  bad  little  boy.    Johnny  always  cleaned  up  and  went 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  403 

to  Sunday  School  whenever  his  mother  said  so,  and  he  was  always 
ready  and  on  time,  he  never  gave  the  teacher  any  trouble,  he  was  really 
the  ideal  little  boy.  Jimmy  was  a  little  ruffian  who  paid  no  attention 
to  anybody  except  himself.  When  Johnnie's  mother  got  him  ready  foi 
Sunday  School  and  started  him  off,  Jimmy  said,  ''Where  are  you  goin*?" 
"To  Sunday  School."  "Do  you  think  Vd  go  to  that  place!  Let's  go 
fishin'."  "Mama  sent  me  to  Sunday  School,  and  Fm  going."  But 
finally  Jimmy  overniles  Johnny's  objections  and  they  go  fishing.  They 
must  cross  a  creek,  and  when  they  were  crossing,  Johnny  fell  into  the 
creek  and  was  drowned.  That's  what  comes  from  disobeying  your 
parents  and  not  going  to  Sunday  School." 

I  haven't  very  much  faith  in  the  efficiency  of  a  "made  to  order" 
story  like  that.  It  isn't  true.  That  isn't  what  happens  nine  hundred 
and  ninety-nine  times* out  of  a  thousand.  The  thing  that  happens  usu- 
ally, is  that  Jimmy  and  Johnny  get  a  good  string  of  fish  and  have  a 
good  time.  If  you  think  you  are  going  to  beguile  children  into  the 
kingdom  of  Heaven  by  leading  them  by  an  empty  nose-sack,  you  may  ^ 
find  yourselves  mistaken.  You  can  get  them  once,  but  you  won't 
get  them  a  second  time.  There  are  better  ways  to  lead  a  child  to  do 
right. 

The  following  illustrates  a  really  true  moral  story :  "There  was  a 
little  boy  who  could  not  be  held  down.  He  was  always  running  out 
and  giving  his  mother  a  great  deal  of  worry  for  fear  that  he  might  get 
into  trouble.  She  feared  it  so  much  that  one  time  she  hit  upon  the  plan 
of  keeping  that  little  boy  very  close  by  her.  She  tied  him  to  her  with  a 
long  aprong  string.  He  did  not  feel  so  bad  for  the  first  few  hours.  It 
was  a  kind  of  novelty  to  be  tagging  up  his  mother ;  but  after  a  time  it 
•  became  rather  irksome  to  the  child.  The  mother  did  not  give  up  the 
plan,  however.  She  could  not  afford  to  give  her  time  chasing  her  son, 
and  she  held  him  there  for  several  days  until,  one  day  he  picked  up  the 
scissors,  and  when  his  mother  was  not  looking,  he  clipped  the  string, 
slipped  out  of  the  door  and  ran  out  into  the  fields  completely  at  his 
freedom.  He  picked  flowers  and  had  the  finest  time  of  his  life.*  In 
the  midst  of  his  rambles,  while  he  was  chasing  the  sunshine  and  trying 
to  get  the  flowers,  he  finally  found  he  had  wandered  so  far  that  he 
came  to  the  mountain  side.  It  seemed  that  higher  up  the  flowers  were 
prettier  than  he  had  ever  seen  before.  He  saw,  hanging  over  a  large 
cliflF,  the  most  beautiful  blossoms  he  had  ever  seen  yet.  He  reached 
to  get  them,  slipped  and  fell,  but  just  as  he  was  about  to  be  plunged 
over  the  face  of  the  cliff  to  his  destruction,  something  caught  and  held 
him.  When  he  pulled  himself  back,  he  found  that  he  had  been  saved 
by  his  mother's  apron  string." 

I  want  to  ask  you,  "Is  it  true?" 

It  isn't  true  to  fact,  and  it  may  not  be  exactly  true  to  life,  though 
I  think  it  is — not  all  of  its  details,  but  in  most  of  them — but  "Is  it  not 
true  to  truth?"  Do  you  know  of  any  little  boys  and  girls  who  have 
been  tied  with  golden  apron  strings  to  their  mother's  hearts  when  they 


404  •     THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

were  So  young  that  they  could  not  wander  away  ?  Do  you  know  that 
when  they  have  got  out  into  Hfe  where  they  have  been  left  to  them- 
selves to  chase  butterflies  and  gather  the  pleasures  «f  the  world,  that 
they  have  often  strayed  on  the  edge  of  the  precipice?  Do  you  know 
that  they  have  sometimes  almost  been  plunged  down  to  destruction 
when  something  held  them ;  when  the  thought  of  mother  or  home  just 
kept  them  from  going  over.    Yes,  you  know  it* 

The  trouble  with  most  of  the  stories  portrayed  in  cheap  books,  in 
plays,  and  in  the  moving  picture  is  that  they  are  distorted — untrue. 
They  are  not  true  to  fact,  nor  true  to  Hfe,  nor  true  to  truth.  They  are 
simply  a  steeple  chase  of  sensation.  There  is  "something  doing."  Most 
of  the  stories  that  the  boys  and  girls  are  reading  in  the  magazines  and 
in  the  cheaper  books — and  sometimes  in  the  more  expensive  books — ^are 
untrue. 

I  was  asked  by  a  mother  not  long  since  to  tell  her  what  I  thought 
of  a  certain  series  of  books.  I  said  I  didn't  know  them.  A  few  days 
afterwards  I  happened  to  be  passing  through  one  of  our  grades  in  the 
training  school  and  I  picked  up  a  book  from  the  desk  of  a  pupil.  It 
happened  to  be  one  of  the  Motor  Boy  series.  I  took  a  taste  of  it.  You 
do  not  have  to  eat  all  of  a  bad  egg  to  know  it  is  bad.  One  taste  was 
enough.  There  was  "something  doing."  Every  chapter  was  a  thrill 
similar  to  that  which  one  gets  for  unwholesome,  over-seasoned  food. 
Many  people  hide  the  bad  taste  of  their  food  with  seasoning.  It 
is  the  same  with  some  stories.  The  writer  hides  the  bad  taste  with 
seasoning.  If  you  are  not  careful  you  will  not  recognize  it.  If  you 
read  them  for  years  and  years,  you  are  sure  to  have  a  disordered  brain 
just  as  the  stomach  is  disordered  and  dissatisfied  if  you  put  unwhole- 
some, highly-seasoned  food  in  it. 

This  is  the  type  of  story  that  is  feeding  too  much  the  brains  of  our 
boys.  There  is  another  type  that  is  feeding  the  brains  of  our  girls. 
Some  girl  goes  to  the  city.  She  becomes  a  maid  to  some  rich  person, 
and  during  the  time  she  is  working  for  this  person,  his  son  happens  to 
be  out  riding  when  his  Tidrse  throws  him  oflF  and  breaks  his  leg.  The 
girl  helps  nurse  the  injured  man.  The  kindness  ripens  into  a  very  des- 
perate love  affair.  And  then  the  father  commands  the  girl  to  leave  his 
presence  forever.  You  have  seen  it  on  the  stage.  The  girl  flees  from 
the  door  and  the  boy  is  broken-hearted.  Then  there  comes  more  chap- 
ters of  trouble  and  tribulation.  Finally  it  develops  that  this  girl  is  the 
daughter  of  Duke  De  Maupassant,  or  some  other  terrible  fellow,  and 
the  father  is  reconciled,  and  they  are  married  and  live  happy  ever  after. 

Stories  of  this  sort  furnish  just  two  things  that  captivate  the  child's 
mind.  The  first  one  is  action.  The  second  is  sensation.  But  many 
people  will  say,  "It  has  a  good  moral.  This  boy  is  brave,  helps  the 
poor  and  does  other  commendable  acts.  The  trouble  lies  right  here: 
they  are  fundamentally  false.  The  thing  that  most  of  these  stories  do 
is  to  bring  the  child  face  to  face  with  a  real  difficulty,  and  then  by 
some  trick  of  fortune,  land  him  in  the  lap  of  luxury — luxury  that  he 
has  not  earned.    This  feeds  the  growing  desire  on  the  part  of  boys  and 


TH£  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  405 

girls  in  this  country  to  acquire  something  for  nothing.  There  are  thou- 
sands of  boys  and  girls  today  who  are  willing  to  sacrifice  even  honor 
for  luxury.  There  are  girls  who  will  throw  aside  a  boy  because  he 
cannot  dress  in  the  latest  fads,  because  he  cannot  follow  all  the  foibles 
of  society — send  the  roses  and  "Pink  Lady"  Chocolates  just  at  the 
right  moment,  or  who  will  not  spend  half  his  salary  to  treat  her  to 
ice  cream  sodas.     He  has  too  much  sense. 

Contrast  with  this  the  well-known  story  of  Cinderella.  It  is  a  fairy 
stor}',  but  is  it  true?  "It  is  truer  than  the  false  stuff  that  I  have  just 
been  relating."  It  is  true  to  truth.  Let  us  see  just  how.  Here  is  the 
central  truth.  It  is  true  that  true  worth  will  rise ;  will  one  day  find  its 
own.  It  may  not  be  in  just  the  same  way  that  Cinderella  found  her 
own,  and  we  may  have  no  magic  about  it,  but  this  is  one  of  God's 
eternal  truths — ^true  worth  will  find  its  own.  The  girl  who  accepts  the 
work  of  life  that  comes  to  her  in  the  spirit  that  Cinderella  accepted  it, 
will  one  day  come  to  her  own.  In  the  olden  days  the  reward  of  every 
girl  who  was  worthy  was  a  prince.  I  wish  that  every  worthy  girl  today 
could  find  a  prince.  I  wish  she  could  find  a  real  prince.  It  is  my  sor- 
row as  I  think  of  it  that  too  many  princes  of  Zion  are  being  corrupted 
by  the  ways  of  the  world.  Another  trouble  is,  too  many  girls  do  not 
find  their  princes,  because  they  do  not  know  how  to  tell  a  prince  when 
they  see  him.  They  think  the  real  prince  has  to  wear  cuffs  on  his 
arms  and  sometimes  on  his  trousers,  and  they  think  that  he  has  to  walk 
the  streets  in  dancing  pumps  while  his  father  does  the  chores.  Boys 
too  often  think  that  a  real  princess  is  one  who  lies  on  the  sofa  and  reads 
a  dime  dovel  while  her  mother  washes  the  dishes.  If  you  want  to  dis- 
cover a  real  prince  you  should  see  him  in  his  working  clothes  when  he 
is  not  looking.  If  you  would  find  a  real  princess  you  are  more  likely 
to  discover  her  in  the  kitchen  than  in  the  parlor. 

Another  interesting  truth  is  this :  the  Cinderella  slipper  will  fit  only 
the  ris:ht  one. 

There  is  one  other  kind  of  story  I  don't  want  you  to  forget, 
and  that  is  the  story  that  has  been  lived  by  the  real  heroes  and  the  real 
heroines  of  our  great  West.  Our  pioneer  forefathers  and  mothers  have 
given  us  some  of  the  finest  stories  that  the  world  has  ever  seen.  These 
stories  are  true.  There  are  romantic  situations  that  have  been  devel- 
oped in  the  pioneering  of  this  country  which  would  make  novels  like 
those  of  Scott,  Dickens,  Irving  and  others.  All  they  lack  is  the  hand  to 
create  the  form  for  it.  We  should  learn  to  recognize  the  heroism  of 
our  every-dav  lives.  Some  people  cannot  recognize  a  hero  until  he  is 
dead.  Sometimes  we  stand  so  close  to  the  mountains  that  you  see  noth- 
ing but  the  crags  and  cliffs.  When  you  stand  off  fifty  miles  then  the 
same  mountains  are  shrouded  in  purple. 

I  discovered  a  story  recently,  which  I  think  is  a  real  contribution  to 
the  world's  interesting  tales.  It  is  the  story  of  a  little  boy  who  came 
to  Grantsville  in  1850.  The  habit  of  the  people  in  the  state  was  to  feed 
the  Indians  rather  than  fight  them,  and  the  Bishop  of  Grantsville 
thought  that  if  the  Indians  were  going  to  be  fed  they  should  be  trained 


406  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

to  work  a  little  for  their  living.  So  many  families  took  an  Indian  fam- 
ily to  work  for  them.  It  happened  that  little  Nick  Wilson's  father  had 
got  an  old  Indian  with  a  squaw  and  papoose.  They  put  the  two  little 
boys  to  herding  sheep  together  on  the  mountains.  During  the  years 
they  lived  together  in  the  Wilson  household,  Nick  learned  the  Indian 
language.  During  this  time  Chief  Washakie  came  into  the  Mormon 
settlements  with  his  terrible  tribe  to  trade  buckskins  and  buffalo  robes 
for  other  things.  His  mother  had  lost  two  of  her  boys  in  a  snowslide. 
The  old  squaw  so  longed  for  her  boys  that  she  almost  lost  her  reason. 
She  would  go  out  on  the  snowslide  and  dig  until  the  Indians  had  to 
drag  her  away  from  it.  During  her  anxiety  she  had  a  dream.  She 
dreamed  that  one  of  the  boys  came  to  her  and  he  was  white.  So  when 
these  Indians  came  down  and  found  little  Nick  Wilson,  they  thought 
that  there  was -the  boy  for  the  squaw.  They  set  themselves  to  lure 
him  away  from  home,  and  they  began  Indian  fashion,  to  win  the  boy*s 
confidence.  They  painted  up  the  Indian  life  and  got  him  in  love  with 
a  pinto  pony,  and  finally,  when  he  asked  for  the  pony,  they  told  him,  "If 
you  will  come  with  us  you  can  have  it."  The  boy  hesitated  two  or 
three  days.  Finally  he  yielded  to  the  temptation.  They  made  a  plan 
and  met  him  out  of  Grantsville  and  took  him  to  the  Indian  mother. 
For  two  years  that  boy  lived  in  the  home  of  Chief  Washakie  as  the 
adopted  son  of  his  mother.  The  story  in  full  has  now  been  pub- 
lished. It  is  one  that  will  captivate  old  and  young.  It  is  a  true  story— 
a  tale  of  adventure  in  the  great  West.* 

This  is  only  one  instance  of  the  many,  many  beautiful  stories  that 
have  been  worked  out  in  the  pioneer  lives  of  this  community.  It  seems 
to  be  a  sacred  duty  for  you  to  gather  stories  of  your  mothers  and  fath- 
ers, to  preserve  these  stories.  This  is  one  of  the  choicest  heritages  we 
have — the  stories  of  our  ancestors.  Tlicy  have  left  behind  a  record  of 
fortitude  and  courage  that  is  sublime.  Find  true  stories.  They  may 
have  been  worked  out  in  these  real  lives,  or  they  may  have  been  created 
hv  master  writers.  They  may  be  true  to  fact,  true  to  life,  true  to  tnith. 
Make  sure  that  they  are  true,  that  you  are  not  teaching  the  child  the 
semblance  of  truth  on  a  false  foundation. 


♦"Uncle  Nick  Among  the  Shoshones." 


The  human  race  is  divided  into  two  classes, — those  who  go  ahead 
and  do  something,  and  those  who  sit  still  and  inquire,  "Why  wasn't  it 
done  the  other  way?*' — Holmes, 

The  most  beautiful  rose-colored  cloud  ever  seen  is  only  a  clammy 
fog  when  one  reaches  the  center  of  it  .  The  rose-colored  dreams  some 
lx)ys  and  girls  have  of  pleasure  and  excitement  would  not  be  pleasant 
at  all  if  they  actually  were  realized.  Our  best  happiness  is  not  in  the 
clouds,  but  at  home  and  in  our  dailv  lives. — Selected. 


LESSON  DEPARTMENT 


Sublcct  for  ibe  Aontbt    Xrtutbrulne88 

The  Lesson  Hour. 

LESSON  TWENTY-NINE. 

SUGGESTIONS  FOR  ALL  THE  TEACHERS. 

Chapter  seven  in  Character  by  Smiles  gives  some  excellent  reasons 
On  the  principle  of  truth  and  explains  its  close  relationship  to  duty.  A 
clear  understanding  of  one's  duty  to  another  necessitates  being  true  and 
truthful  in  all  the  relations  of  human  intercourse.  Primary  teachers 
should  be  able  to  teach  by  example  and  precept  the  great  value  of  truth. 

A  number  of  illustrations  will  be  given  in  the  lessons,  to  emphasize 
the  force  of  the  truth  and  the  teachers  are  urged  to  add  to  them  from 
personal  or  acquired  knowledge  to  make  them  full  of  suggestion  and 
opportunity  for  the  development  of  truth  in  word,  thought  and  deed. 

Read  the  suggestions  given  for  each  grade,  using  all  that  is  useful. 

FIRST  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text :     Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  7. 
Bible:     Life  of  Christ. 

Other  Materials, 

Memory  Gem. 

Games. 

Songs. 

Pictures. 

Rest  Exercises. 

Aim. 

Truth  in  word,  thought  and  deed  will  perfect  character  in  this  life 
and  entitle  one  to  salvation  hereafter. 

Illustration. 

*'The  Bird  That  Told."  The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  10,  page 
318. 


» 


408  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher,  The  review  may  be  a  very  complete 
retelling  of  the  last  lesson,  as  it  will  mean  more  to  the  children  if  they 
can  be  helped  to  understand  that  it  is  right  to  do  as  many  things  as 
possible  to  help  others  to  be  happy,  that  doing  one's  best  as  well  as 
one's  most  is  being  true.  Care  should  be  taken  in  talking  about  un- 
truths to  little  children,  sometimes  their  imaginations  are  so  vivid  they 
tell  the  most  extraordinary  things  that  they  are  liable  to  be  misunder- 
stood. Never  accuse  little  children  of  lying,  but  help  them  to  feel  the 
value  of  truth.  The  new  material  will  help  in  suggesting  the  lesson 
truth.  Speak  about  the  Savior,  with  reverence  in  tone  and  attitude, 
refer  in  a  general  way  to  His  actions,  how  He  went  about  being  kind 
and  doing  good  whenever  there  was  an  opportunity.  How  He  promised 
nice  things  and  how  truly  the  promises  came  to  pass.  The  story  given 
for  the  illustration  will  help  to  impress  the  necessity  for  truth. 

Poem,    "The  Boy  Who  Never  Told  a  Lie." 

Once  there  was  a  little  boy  with  curly  hair  and  pleasant  eye — 

A  boy  who  always  told  the  truth,  and  never,  never  told  a  He. 

And  when  he  trotted  off  to  school  the  children  about  would  cry 

"There  goes  the  curly-headed  boy — ^the  boy  that  never  tells  a  lie.' 

And  everybody  loved  him  so,  because  he  told  the  truth, 

That  every  day  as  he  grew  up,  'twas  said,  "There  goes  the  honest 

youth." 
And  when  the  people  that  stood  near  would  turn  to  ask  the  reason  why. 
The  answer  would  be  always  this :    "Because  he  never  tells  a  lie." 

— Selected. 

Memory  Gem. 

"Children,  do  you  love  each  other? 

Are  you  always  kind  and  true? 
Do  you  always  do  to  others 

As  you'd  have  them  do  to  you  ?" 

SECOND  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lessoiu 

Text :     Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  7. 
Bible :     Story  of  the  Rainbow. 

Other  Materials. 

Memory  Gem. 

Games. 

Songs. 

Pictures. 

Rest  Exercises. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  409 

Aim. 

Truth  in, word,  thought  and  deed  will  perfect  character  in  this  life 
and  entitle  one  to  salvation  hereafter. 

m 

Illustration. 

"Who  Stole  the  Peanuts."  The  Children's  Friend/voI.  2,  page 
439. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  Telling  the  truth  is  one's  duty,  so 
the  review  may  be  very  full,  use  most  of  the  material  from  the  last 
lesson  and  emphasize  the  new  thought  as  you  use  it.  Speak  reverently 
of  the'sacredness  of  God's  word,  use  the  incident  of  the  flood  and  rain- 
bow to  illustrate  how  surely  and  beautifully  divine  promises  are  kept. 
The  story  given  for  the  illustration  will  help  to  show  the  value  of 
always  telling  the  truth. 

Memory  Gem. 

Dare  to  be  true,  nothing  can  need  a  He. 

The  fault  that  needs  it  most,  grows  two  thereby. 

Poem.    "General  Washington." 

When  General  Washington  was  young,  about  as  big  as  I, 
He  never  would  permit  his  tongue  •to  tell  a  wilful  lie. 

Once  when  he  cut  his  father's  tree,  he  owned  it  to  his  face ; 
And  then  his  father  ardently  clasped  him  in  his  embrace. 

He  told  his  son  it  pleased  him  more  to  find  him  own  the  truth. 
Than  if  his  tree  were  bending  o'er  with  rich  and  golden  fruit. 

Then  like  this  good  and  noble  youth,  whose  virtues  ever  shon*'. 
We'll  seek  the  paths  of  love  and  truth,  and  all  our  faults  will  own. 

— Unknown. 

THIRD  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text:     Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  7. 
Bible:    The  Exodus  from  Egypt. 

Other  Materials. 

Memory  Gem. 
Poem. 
Songs. 
Pictures. 


410  iHE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

Aim. 

Truth  in  word,  thought  and  deed  will  perfect  character  in  this  life 
and  entitle  one  to  salvation  hereafter. 

Illustration. 

**On  Trial."    The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  5,  page  412. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher,  Use  all  of  the  material  given  last 
month  in  the  review.  Help  the  children  to  understand  the  principles 
of  truth  in  things  they  do  as  well  as  in  words  they  use.  Tell  briefly  the 
Bible  story,  using  it  to  show  how  wonderfully  the  Master  acts  out  the 
truth,  and  though  it  may  take  time  the  promises  of  the  Lord  are  surely 
fulfilled.  The  story,  "On  Trial,"  is  a  good  illustration  of  courage  in 
doing  one's  duty  and  sticking  to  the  truth  even  when  there  is  great 
temptation  to  do  otherwise. 

Memory  Gem, 

If  wisdom's  ways  you  wisely  seek, 

Five  things  observe  with  care; 
To  whom  you  speak,  of  whom  you  speak, 

And  how,  and  when,  and  where. 

— Selected. 

Poem. 

"If  I  have  spoken  any  words 

Which  may  do  harm  to-day ; 
If  I  have  said  an  unkind  thing. 

Forgive  it  now,  I  pray, 
From  lying  lips  I  would  be  free. 
And  keep  them  pure  and  true  for  Thee." 

FOURTH  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text:     Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  7. 

Bible:    The  Blessings,  of  the  Gospel.     Mark  16:17. 

Other  Materials, 

Questions. 
Memory  Gem. 
Poem. 
Quotations. 

Aim. 

Truth  in  word,  thought  and  deed  will  perfect  character  in  this  life 
and  entitle  one  to  salvation  hereafter. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  411 

Illustration. 

"The  Journey  that  Jeff  Made."  The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  10, 
page  569. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  Truth  is  a  duty,  and  duty  often 
needs  the  exercise  of  self-control,  so  the  teacher  will  do  well  to  review 
the  two  previous  lesson  subjects  to  emphasize  the  value  of  truth.  Speak 
of  the  value  of  divine  truth,  use  the  blessings  of  the  Gospel  to  illustrate 
how  the  Lord  keeps  His  word  to  ail  who  are  faithful  and  true. 

Questions, 
What  is  duty? 

What  is  meant  by  saying  "always  speak  the  truth." 
What  does  the  word  truthfulness  mean? 
Does  truthfulness  always  refer  to  words? 
How  does  it  apply  to  actions? 

How  is  it  possible  to  lie  with  a  look?  An  expression  on  the  face? 
A  nod  of  the  head  ?    By  an  action  ? 

How  may  words  and  actions  be  contradictions? 

Why  is  the  habit  of  being  truthful  an  important  one  ? 

How  does  truthfulness  in  words  and  actions  inspire  confidence  ? 

How  could  a  reputation  for  truthfulness  have  value  in  the  business 

world  ? 

What  is  your  feeling  towards  a  person  who  always  speaks  and  acts 
the  truth  ? 

Memory  Gem. 

One  of  the  sublimest  things  in  the  world  is  plain  truth. — Bulwer. 

Poem. 

True  worth  is  in  being,  not  seeming — 

In  doing,  each  day  that  goes  by, 
Some  little  good ;  not  in  the  dreaming 

Of  great  things  to  do  by  and  by. 
For  whatever  we  say  in  our  blindness, 

And  in  spite  of  the  fancies  of  youth. 
There  is  nothing  so  kingly  as  kindness. 

And  nothing  so  royal  as  tnith. 

— Alice  Cary. 

Quotations. 

Proverbs  12:17-19;  19:5;  Ephesians  4:25. 

FIFTH  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text:     Character;  by  Smiles,  chapter  7. 

Bible:    The  Fulfillment  of  Promise.     Daniel,  2nd  chapter. 


412  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Other  Materials, 

Questions. 
Memory  Gem. 
Poem. 
Quotations. 

Aim. 

Truth  in  word,  thought  and  deed  will  perfect  character  in  this  life 
and  entitle  one  to  salvation  hereafter. 

Illustration. 

''How  Ruth  Lost  and  Won."  The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  9, 
page  525. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  Review  carefully  the  main  points 
in  the  last  two  lessons  to  make  clear  the  thought  of  duty,  the  necessity 
for  self-control  and  the  close  relationship  of  truth  to  all  the  actions  of 
daily  life.  Read  the  suggestions  and  questions  given  for  the  fourth 
grade,  perhaps  you  will  want  to  use  some  of  them.  Discuss  reverently 
the  meaning  of  "God  is  truth."  Relate  briefly  the  dream  of  Nebuchad- 
nezzar and  the  interpretation  by  Daniel.  Tell  a  little  about  the  restora- 
tion of  the  Gospel,  how  the  stone  that  was  cut  out  of  the  mountains 
without  hands  has  grown  into  the  great  Church  of  Jesus  Christ  of 
Latter-day  Saints.  Bear  your  testimony  to  the  children  of  the  fulfill- 
ment of  the  great  prophecy,  and  to  the  truthfulness  of  God*s  word. 

Questions. 

Use  some  from  the  fourth  grade. 

What  is  an  exaggeration? 

How  could  exaggeration  become  a  habit? 

What  is  your  Opinion  of  a  person  who  has  the  habit  of  exaggera- 
tion? 

Name  some  of  the  common  exaggerations,  such  as :  "I  thought  I 
would  die  laughing/'  etc. 

What  is  the  meaning  of  this,  "A  promise  neglected  is  an  untruth 
told?" 

Explain  this  commandment,  "Thou  shalt  not  bear  false  witness 
against  thy  neighbor." 

Memory  Gem. 

Just  to  be  true  is  to  triumph.  Any  kind  of  lie  is  bound  to  fail  in 
the  long  run. — Exchange. 

Poem.    "Three  Gates  of  Gold." 

If  you  are  tempted  to  reveal  a  tale 
Some  one  to  you  has  told 
About  another, 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  413 

Make  it  pass,  before  you  speak, 

Three  Gates  of  Gold — 

Three  narrow  gates: 

First,  Is  it  true?    Then,  Is  it  needful? 

And  the  next  is  last  and  narrowest,  Is  it  kind? 

And,  if  at  last,  to  leave  your  lips, 

It  passes  through 

These  gateways  three. 

Then  you  the  tale  may  tell, 

Nor  fear  what. 

The  result  may  be. 

— Selected. 

Quotations. 

Psalms  15:2;  Zechariah  8:16;  Proverbs  12:22. 


LESSON  THIRTY. 

The  Busy  Hour. 

BALLS  AND  BEAN  BAGS. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  The  First  and  Second  Grades  are 
to  make  the  balls.  The  teachers  should  prepare  the  cardboards  and 
have  yarn  and  needles  all  ready,  the  children  to  do  the  winding  only. 
It  will  be  necessary  for  the  teachers  to  cut  the  yarn  around  the  edges 
after  the  winding  by  the  children,  also  to  tie  the  twine  around  the  center. 
The  ball  should  be  made  in  the  preparation  meeting  so  that  the  teacher 
knows  exactly  how  to  make  a  good  ball. 

In  the  Third,  Fourth  and  Fifth  Grades  bean  bags  are  to  be  made. 
The  materials  should  be  cut  and  needles  threaded,  all  ready  at  the  be- 
ginning oi  the  meeting. 

Directions  for  Making  Yarn  Balls.  Take  two  circular  pieces  of 
cardboard  about  four  inches  in  diameter.  Cut  in  the  center  of  each  a 
hole  as  iarge  as  a  dime,  and  then  thread  a  needle  with  a  long  piece  of 
yam.    Have  the  yarn  thread  very  long,  and  have  it  doubled. 

Lay  the  two  pieces  of  cardboard  together,  and  put  the  needle 
through  the  hole  again  and  again,  bringing  it  around  the  outer  edge  of 
the  cardboard  until  the  yarn  is  all  used  up.  Then  thread  your  needle 
again,  fasten  the  new  yarn  neatly  to  the  old,  and  repeat  the  performance 
until  the  hole  is  entirely  filled  up,  and  the  cardboard  covered  by  a  great 
puflp  of  yam. 

Now  carefully  slip  one  point  of  a  pair  of  scissors  through  the  yarn 
at  the  outer  rim  of  the  circles  and  between  the  two  cards  and  cut  the 
yarn  all  around  the  edge.     Then  separating  the  cards  slightly,  tie  a 


414  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

strong,  fine  bit  of  twine  between  them  and  tightly  round  the  yam  center. 
Then  tear  off  the  cardboards  and  the  yarn  will  spring  into  shape, 
making  a  round,  soft,  fluffy  ball.  If  need  be,  trim  it  a  bit,  here  and 
there,  with  the  scissors,  to  insure  a  true  shape.  The  ball  may  be  of 
one  or  two  colors ;  or  all  colors  may  be  used,  making  a  bright,  gay 
effect  that  will  please  the  children. 

Directions  for  Making  Bean  Bags.  Bean  bags  should  be  made  of 
heavy,  closely  woven  material,  such  as  ticking,  awning,  duck,  or  denim, 
and  should  be  from  6  to  12  inches  square  when  finished.  They  are 
stitched  around  the  outer  edge  (except  for  a  small  length  through  which 
the  beans  are  inserted).  The  bag  should  then  be  turned  and  stitched  a 
second  time.  The  bag  is  filled  with  dried  beans  or  peas.  A  bag  6 
inches  square  should  contain  one-half  pound  of  these.  Larger  bags 
may  contain  more,  but  the  half  pound  weight  is  good  for  any  sized  bag. 
It  is  desirable  to  have  two  colors  for  each  grade,  as  that  helps  in  team 
work. 

The  bags  and  balls  should  be  kept  by  the  officers  until  after  the 
Social  Hour,  when  ball  games  and  bean  bag  contests  will  be  played. 


LESSON  THIRTY-ONE. 

The  Social  Hour. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  The  teachers  should  use  this  oppor- 
tunity to  impress  the  lesson  for  the  month.  Playing  fair  and  honestly 
is  telling  the  truth.  To  respect  the  meeting  house,  its  contents,  the 
teachers  and  each  other,  is  to  be  true  to  our  Church  and  the  principles 
of  truth.  Be  sure  to  have  perfect  order,  be  reverential  in  the  opening 
and  closing  exercises. 

Preliminary  Music. 

Prayer. 

Singing. 
Story  on  Truth. 

Singing  Game.     "KuU  Dansen,"  Popular  Folk  Dances. 

Ball  Games  for  First  and  Second  Grades  from  Games  for  the 
Playground. 

Teacher  and  Class,  page  316. 

Itiskit,  Itasket,  (use  ball  instead  of  handkerchief),  page  268. 
Bean  Bag  Circle,  (use  balls  instead  of  bean  bags),  page  305. 
Catch  Basket,  page  307. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  415 

Bean  Bag  Games  for  Third,  Fourth  and  Fifth  Grades,  from  Games 
for  the  Playground, 

The  games  should  be  played  in  groups. 

Bag  Pile,  page  303. 

Bean  Bag  Board,  page  304. 

Hand  Over  Head  Bean  Bag,  page  310. 

Pass  and  Toss  Relay,  page  314. 

Singing  Game.  "JoUy  Is  the  Miller."  Old  and  New  Singing 
Games. 

Recitation  of  Memory  Gems. 

Singing. 

Benediction. 

LESSON  THIRTY-TWO. 

The  Story  Hour. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  A  number  of  Primary  Officers  have 
requested  that  during  the  reading  of  the  stories  the  children  be  per- 
mitted to  do  some  of  the  busy  work  which  has  been  suggested.  There 
is  no  objection  to  such  a  plan  if  proper  order  can  be  maintained. 

The  opening  and  closing  exercises  should  be  properly  and  rever- 
ently observed.  Opportunities  should  be  made  to  discuss  the  stories 
to  bring  out  the  thought  of  the  month.  Stories  may  be  selected  from 
back  numbers  of  The  Children's  Friend,  or  from  books  in  the  library 
or  in  the  possession  of  the  teachers  which  fit  the  subject  of  truth  in 
thought,  word,  or  deed. 

FIRST  GRADE. 

Stories.    Chicken  Little,  Household  Stories,  page  37;  or, 
Picture  Books ;  or, 

Ginger  Bread  and  Spices  and  Other  Things;  or 
The  Stolen  Blue  Dress,  both  in  this   issue   of   The  Children's 
Friend. 

SECOND  GRADE. 

Stories.  The  Honest  Woodman,  Boston  Collection  of  Kindergar- 
ten Stories,  page  17;  or, 

Little  George  Washington,  The  Story  Hour,  page  115;  or, 

The  Boy  Who  Cried  Wolf,  Stories  to  Tell  to  Children,  page  68 ;  or, 

The  Cookey,  How  to  Tell  Stories,  page  144 ;  or. 

The  Gold  Basket ;  or. 

The  Honesty  of  Elinor,  both  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's 
Friend. 


416  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

THIRD  GRADE. 

Stories,    The  Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin  Town,  How  to  Tell  Stories, 
page  145 ;  or, 

Moni,  the  Goat  Boy;  or, 

Patsy  and  the  Policeman ;  or 

Don't  Act  a  Lie,  both  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's  Friend. 

FOURTH  GRADE. 

Stories,    The  Blind  Brother ;  or. 
The  Truth  Saves  a  Life ;  or, 

A  Bargain  Is  a  Bargain,  both  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's 
Friend. 

FIFTH  GRADE. 

Stories.     Boy  Scouts  of  Woodcraft  Camp;  or, 

Helen  Over  the  Wall ;  or, 

Milly's  Temptation ;  or, 

The  Surety,  both  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's  Friend. 


TAKE  IT  WITH  YOU. 

''I  hope  you'll  have  a  pleasant  time,  son,"  said  I,  as  the  latter  was 
starting  out  to  spend  the  evening. 

"Thank  you ;  I  always  do,  for  I  take  it  with  me,"  was  the  reply. 

And  that  is  a  great  big  secret.  Most  people  wish  to  have  a  g^ood 
time.  And  that's  right.  But  so  many  of  them  seem  to  fail.  Why  don't 
they  take  it  with  them?  They  can;  they  should.  The  good  time  is 
you.  It  is  with  you  as  to  whether  you  have  good  neighbors  and  find 
pleasant  people  everywhere  you  go.  The  glory  of  the  heavens,  the 
gorgeousness  of  the  sunrise  and  the  sunset,  the  sweetness  of  bird 
songs,  the  beauty  'of  waving  trees  and  blooming  flowers,  the  very 
goodness  of  God  itself — all  are  in  you,  all  depend  on  whatjpu  have 
brought  with  you.  3^ 

What  kind  of  time  do  you  want  to  have?  It  rests  witl^ou.  Will 
you  walk  in  clear  light  or  stumble  along  in  gloont?  \V«  you  be 
strong  and  joyous,  or  weak  and  sad?  It  rests  with  you. — Bmherhood 
Star.  .^ 


I       '-^ 

yEQOY  LIXJKKU  WITH  A  HAr.I--SMlLE  AT  THE  CONDUCTOR. 


The  CHILDREN'S  Frien d 


1 


\'ol.  12  AUGUST  1913  No.  8 


LITTLE  PRINCESS  WISLA. 

BY  SOPHIE  SWETT. 

Chapter  VIII. — ^The  Gdnductor  on  the  Northern. 

The  wag  of  a  little  dog's  tail  and  a  broken  coral  bead  might  not 
mean  much,  but  Phi  made  up  his  mind,*  as  the  hot  tears  dried  upon  his 
cheeks,  that  he  would  tell  his  mother  all  about  them.  Phi  and  his 
mother  were  great  friends.  He  told  to  her  more  than  he  would  have 
told  to  anybody  in  the  world. 

He  had  been  warned  not  to  tell  her  anything  that  would  arouse 
false  hopes  about  Peggy,  and  he  had  kept  entirely  to  himself  the  water- 
soaked  hair  ribbon  that  might  drive  hen  to  despair.  But  he  felt  that 
he  must  know  what  she  would  think  about  the  little  dog  that  seemed  so 
much  like  Stumpy  and  about  the  broken  bead  picked  up  where  an  Indian 
canoe  had  stopped. 

But  as  Phi  reached  his  own  door  Dr.  Brooks  was  coming  out  with 
a  very  serious  face. 

"Your  mother  has  broken  down,  Phi,"  he  said.  "The  strain  and 
grief  have  been  more  than  she  could  bear.  She  must  be  kept  as  quiet 
as  possible  and  you  must  be  a  very  wise  boy  and  not  tell  her  anything 
that  can  agitate  her." 

Phi  swallowed  a  great  choking  lump  in  his  throat.  His  father  had 
gone  away  to  see  whether  a  little  girl  lost  in  New  York  state  could 
possibly  be  Peggy.  There  had  been  a  report  of  a  little  girl  carried  off 
on  the  steamboat  on  the  day  of  Peggy's  disappearance.  Now  every 
lost  little  girl  caused  a  thrill  of  hope  and,  all  over  the  country,  people 
were  hired  to  look  into  every  report. 

Had  he  anything  to  tell  ? 

He  hesitated  only  a  moment  after  the  lump  was  swallowed. 

"1  want  to  tell  you  something,  Dr.  Brooks,  if  I  can't  tell  it  to 
mama/  'he  said. 

Dr.  Brooks  put  his  hand  on  Phi's  shoulder  in  a  fatherly  way  and 
told  him  to  jump  into  his  carriage.  He  was  going  in  haste  to  visit 
another  patient,  but  he  listened  carefully  to  Phi's  story. 

"Don't  you  remember  Jo  Peebles  who  used  to  live  in  the  little  red 
house  down  by  the  ferry?"  he  asked. 


420  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Phi  could  not  for  a  moment  remember  Jo  Peebles  or  think  what  he 
could  have  to  do  with  finding  Stumpy. 

'^e  used  to  work  in  your  father's  ship-yard,"  the  doctor  went  on. 
"Now  he  is  a  conductor  on  that  northern  railway.     The  Indians  will 

camp  in  the  woods  tonight  and  strike  the  H station  at  seven 

o'clock  tomorrow  morning.  Jo  will  be  on  board.  He  probably  knows 
Stumpy — ^the  dog  was  always  around  the  ship-yard — and  he  knows— 

Peggy." 

Dr.  Brooks  looked  at  Phi  as  he  pronounced  the  name,  Peggy,  and 
Phi's  heart  gave  a  little  leap. 

He  thought  of  the  little  girl  whom  he  had  seen  lying  u|X)n  the  litter 
and  of  the  way  the  little  dog  licked  her  hand  just  as  he  had  seen 
Stumpy  lick  Peggy's  hand  a  great  many  times. 

Phi  had  had  a  queer  fancy  that  the  little  girl  looked  like  Peggy. 
It  was  such  a  queer  fancy  that  he  had  not  even  mentioned  it  to  Sidney. 
He  was  afraid  that  Sidney  would  think  that  the  loss  of  Peggy  was 
making  him  crazy. 

"Of  course  it  is  not  in  the  least  probable  that  the  old  Indian  woman 
is  carrying  Peggy  off  with  her  princess,"  continued  Dr.  Brooks.  "But 
Rex's  queer  behavior  and  your  feeling  about  the  little  dog  make  it  seem 
worth  the  while  to  find  out  something  about  the  Indians  who  were  going 
off  through  the  woods." 

The  doctor  drove  directly  to  the  telegraph  office  and  sent  a  mes- 
sage to  "Mr.  Joseph  Peebles"  at  the  railroad  station  of  a  little  town  on 
the  Canada  line. 

"Look  out  for  party  of  Indians  on  train.  May  have  Margaret 
Piper  and  dog  Stumpy." 

The  telegraphs  and  telephones,  all  over  the  country,  had  carried 
Margaret  Piper's  name  every  day. 

They  were  beginning,  now,  to  carry  Stumpy's  name  as  well. 

Phi  had  stood  by  and  seen  many  a  message  sent  that  brought  only 
a  hopeless  answer.  But  his  heart  still  thrilled  with  hope— -even  more 
now  than  it  ever  had  done  before. 

Although  Sidney  had  jeered  at  his  fancy,  Sidney's  father  had  lis- 
tened and  had  thought  it  worth  a  telegram ! 

As  they  turned  away  he  overheard  a  girl  say  to  the  operator,  *i 
should  think  they  might  know  by  this  time  that  the  child  is  at  the  bottom 
of  the  river !" 

But  even  that  did  not  turn  the  world  dark  to  Phi  today. 

He  counted  the  hours  until  the  time  when  Dr.  Brooks  thought  they 
might  expect  to  receive  a  telegram  in  answer  from  Jo  Peebles. 

He  longed  to  whisper  through  the  key-hole  of  his  mother's  door : 

"I  am  almost  sure  I  have  found  Stumpy!  And  what  shouM 
Stumpy  go  away  up  to  the  Indian  island  for  but  to  find  Peggy?" 

But  the  doctor  had  said  that  he  must  say  not  a  word  until  they 
heard  from  Jo  Peebles. 

Phi  lay  awake  that  night,  as  much  as  nature  ever  allows  a  heakfay 


THE  CIIILUREN'S  FRIEND.  421 

twelve-year-old  to  do  and  the  next  morning  he  was  down  at  the  tele- 
graph office  hours  before  Dr.  Brooks  had  thought  they  could  possibly 
hear  from  the  conductor. 

While  Phi  was  waiting  in  the  office,  with  his  heart  sometimes  as 
light  as  a  feather  with  hope,  and  sometimes  as  heavy  as  lead  with  fear, 
Jo  Peebles,  in  the  private  car  that  Winne-Lackee  had  ordered  for  her 
party,  was  trying  to  get  a  chance  to  speak  to  the  little  Indian  princess 
and  her  dog,  that  was  keeping  a  jealous  watch  over  her. 

Old  Winne-Lackee  had  taken  this  journey  to  Canada  in  Jo  Peebles' 
train  before  and  she  talked  with  him  now,  telling  him  how  ill  her  little 
grand-daughter  had  been  and  that  today  she  could  sit  upright  for  the 
first  time.  But  when  the  conductor  drew  near  the  little  princess, 
Winne-Lackee  waved  him  off  with  great  dignity. 

The  little  dog,  too,  barked  furiously.  Stumpy  seemed  to  have 
grown  used  to  the  Indians,  already,  but  he  would  let  no  stranger  come 
near  his  little  mistress. 

But  Jo  Peebles  made  another  effort  to  see  the  little  princess.  He 
carried  a  tid-bit  from  the  dining-room  car  to  Stumpy  and  a  g^eat 
orange  to  the  princess.  This  seemed  to  convince  Winne-Lackee,  as 
well  as  Stumpy,  of  his  good-will. 

Perhaps  the  old  squaw  was  careless,  because  in  all  the  outcry  about 
Kttle  lost  Margaret  Piper  no  one  had  suspected  her.  No  one  had  even 
observed  her  upon  the  river  on  the  day  when  Peggy  was  lost. 

Perhaps,  too,  she  was  a  little  drowsy  from  the  pipe  that  she  had 
smoked  with  Dr.  Sockabesin,  after  the  fine  dinner  that  had  been  served 
to  them  in  their  own  car. 

Anyway,  she  let  the  conductor  carry  the  dainties  to  Peggy  and 
Stumpy  at  the  farther  end  of  the  car.  And  Stumpy  wagged  his  tail 
when  the  conductor  patted  his  head  and  Peggy  looked  shyly  up  into 
the  face  of  the  only  white  person  who  had  spoken  to  her  since  she  had 
awakened  from  what  seemed  a  strange  and  troubled  dream. 

Peggy  could  sit  up  on  a  sofa  today,  and  she  looked  with  a  half- 
smile  into  th^  conductor's  face  as  he  bent  over  her. 

She  was  wrapped  in  a  blanket  but  it  was  not  an  Indian  blanket ;  it 
was  a  silk  one  that  had  been  made  in  Venice.  She  wore  half  a  dozen 
strings  of  beads  around  her  neck  but  they  were  of  amber,  of  amethyst, 
of  camelian  and  gold  mixed  together,  bead  for  bead,  and  of  silver 
filagree.  There  was  no  little  coral  neclclace  from  which  a  bead  had  been 
broken!  A  coral  necklace  was  not  good  enough  for  little  Princess 
Wisla. 

Jo  Peebles  loolced  her  over,  from  her  dark,  dark  face  to  the  bead- 
embroidered  moccasins  upon  her  feet.  He  said  to  himself  that  she 
looked  like  a  thorough  little  Indian. 

"I  used  to  know  a  little  dog  just  like  this  one,"  he  said,  patting 
Stumpy's  head.  "His  name  was  Stumpy,  too.  It  was  in  a  ship-yard 
in  Pollywhoppet  that  I  saw  him." 


422  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

The  color  leaped  into  Peggy's  face  at  the  sound  of  that  name.  But 
it  showed  only  very  faintly  under  the  pokeberry  stain. 

" Polly whoppet !"  she  repeated  as  if  the  name  were  very  queer  and 
difficult.     "  Polly  whop-pet !" 

It  stirred  her  sleeping  memory  but  it  did  not  thrill  her  heart  as  the 
name  of  her  brother  had  done. 

"Wisia  not  know  Pol-ly-whop-pet,"  she  said  slowly.  "Wisla  know 
only  names  of  her  own  people." 

Already  she  showed  a  slight  trace  of  the  Indian  accent.  Winne- 
Lackee  and  Minnehaha  had  talked  to  her  ^  great  deal  and  her  tongue, 
that  seerned  slow  and  halting,  tried  to  imitate  them.  Peggy  had  always 
been  quick  to  learn  and  she  was  now  learning  very  quickly  to  be  a  little 
Indian ! 

They  had  reached  a  station  and  conductor  Peebles  hurried  to  tele- 
graph to  Dr.  Brooks  at  Pollywhoppet. 

Peggy  dropped  her  head  upon  Stumpy's  rough  coat  with  a  sudden 
burst  of  tears. 

"Oh,  Stumpy,  there  is  something  that  I  have  lost  and  can't  help 
longing  for!     Shall  I  remember  what  it  is?"  she  sobbed. 

Old  Winne-Lackee  scowled  when  she  came  back  to  Peggy's  sofa 
and  saw  the  tears. 

"What  that  man  say  ?"  she  demanded  angrily. 

Peggy  answered  slowly  trying  to  swallow  a  lump  in  her  throat: 

"He  said  something  that  make  Wisla  think  of- — of  something  she 
dreamed  once,  a  great  place  by  a  river — grassy  first  and  then  heaps  of 
soft,  soft  something  that  girls  and  boys  played  in-^not  Indian  boys  and 
girls  like  Wisla.  And  we  went  up  and  down  in  the  sunshine.  And 
there  was  a  house  different  from  ours  on  the  island  and,  and  people- 
not  any  kinder  maybe  than  you" — something  like  distress  in  the  old 
squaw's  face  made  Peggy  say  that — "but  different.  And,  oh,  I  long  for 
them  so !  There  is  an  ache  in  here  all  the  time"— Peggy  laid  her  thin 
little  pokeberry-stained  hand  on  her  heart — "because  I  can't  remember 
— can't  dream  the  dream  or  get  back  into  that  world  agaii>!" 

Old  Winne-Lackee's  face  twitched  suddenly  as  if  to  cry. 

She  could  bear  the  fear  of  being  followed  and  put  into  prison,  even 
the  pang,  sharp  sometimes,  that  came  ^t  the  thought  of  Peggy's  mother's 
suffering — old  Winne-Lackee  had  .been  a  mother  herself — ^but  the  pans: 
she  could  not  bear  was  the  fear  that  Peggy  would  never  love  her. 

It  was  queer,  but  what  the  old  squaw  longed  for  most  of  anything 
in  the  world  was  a  child's  love. 

She  bent  over  Peggy  with  tears  upon  her  withered  face  long  after 
the  child  had  cried  herself  to  sleep. 

"Pol-ly-whoppet !"  murmured  poor  little  Peggy,  wistfully,  in  her 
sleep. 

(to  be  continued) 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  423 

THh  SALE  OF  DAVID. 

BY  FRANCES  BENT  DILLINGHAM. 

Eliza  was  tired  of  taking  care  of  David.  Eliza  was  eight  and  David 
was  two.  In  the  morning  before  she  went  to  school  Eliza  washed  and 
dressed  him  and  gave  him  his  breakfast.  When  she  came  home  at 
noon  she  gave  him  his  dinner ;  when  school  was  over  at  night  Eliza  took 
entire  care  of  David  till  his  bedtime. 

Eliza's  mother  was  a  very  busy  woman  with  little  money  and  seven 
children  to  clothe  and  feed.  There  was  a  baby  younger  than  David ; 
there  were  three  children  older  than  he  and  younger  than  Eliza,  and 
only  Eliza  and  Mary,  a  girl  of  twelve,  to  help  the  mother.  Eliza  should 
have  been  grateful  that  she  was  required  to  take  care  of  David  only. 

But  Eliza  sometimes  got  very  tired  of  David,  very;  though  of 
course  she  was  fond  of  him.  This  afternoon  she  was  more  than  usually 
cross  as  she  trundled  him  down  the  street  in  the  cart  her  father  had 
made  out  of  a  soap-box  on  four  squeaking,  wriggling  wheels. 

Eliza  tugged,  resentfully  at  the  rope  fastened  through  a  hole  in  the 
box.  David  grinned  delightedly  at  the  sunshine,  and  enjoyed  the 
squeak.  Not  so  Eliza.  Amy  Winters  had  invited  the  girls  to  her  house 
that  afternoon  to  make  candy.  She  had  told  Eliza  she  could  not  come 
if  she  must  bring  David.  This  was  not  so  unkind  of  Amy  as  seems  at 
first,  for  the  girls  were  fond  of  David,  who  was  the  best-natured  baby 
in  the  world;  but  at  the  last  candy-pull  David  had  attended,  he  had 
upset  on  his  head  a  cup  of  molasses  just  ready  for  the  stove.  So,  while 
the  other  g^rls  had  pulled  the  candy,  Eliza  had  to  wash  David's  face  and 
hair. 

Eliza  went  fast  past  Amy's  house,  beating  up  a  cloud  of  dust  about 
her  downcast  eyes.  She  walked  on  toward  the  postoffice.  Here  some 
boys  were  playing  marbles.     One  of  them  stopped  and  greeted  Eliza. 

"Hullo,  how's  your  kid  today?" 

The  boys  all  called  David  ^'Eliza's  kid." 

Eliza  did  not  deign  to  answer :  she  tossed  her  head  and  the  wagon 
wheels  creaked  ominously. 

"Kid  for  sale,  kid  for  sale,"  called  another,  smiling  good-naturedly 
at  David's  happy  face. 

The  silent  Eliza  went  on  faster  than  ever.  When  she  had  turned 
the  comer,  and  was  out  of  sight  of  the  boys,  she  looked  back  at  David. 
She  wished  he  was  for  sale;  she  wished  somebody  would  buy  him. 
With  his  soft  red  curls  and  round  blue  eyes,  he  was  pretty  enough  for 
anybody  to  buy.  Now  she  remembered  she  had  heard  her  mother  say 
that  very  morning  she  wasn't  rich  in  anything  but  children,  and  she 
wished  somebody  would  buy  some  of  them. 

Eliza's  mother  was  so  busy  moving  about  that  a  speech  begun  in 
one  room  was  likely  to  end  in  another,  so  Eliza  frequently  did  not  hear 
the  end  of  her  mother's  remarks.     Eliza  did  not  hear  her  mother  add 


424  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

that  there  wasn't  a  child  she'd  part  with  for  less  than  ten  million  dollar^. 
Eliza  thought  that  perhaps  her  mother  would  be  glad  to  sell  David. 

"I'd  find  him  a  good  place,"  said  Eliza,  "with  a  kind,  rich  lady. 
and  she'd  pay  a  good  deal,  and  I  wouldn't  have  to  t^ke  care  of  him.  I'd 
want  him  to  have  a  nice  big  house." 

The  cart,  the  baby  and  the  little  girl  went  up  the  hill,  where  were 
some  of  the  pleasantest  homes  in  the  town.  Eliza  stopped  in  front  of  one 
of  these.  On  the  side  piazza  sat  a  pretty  lady  dressed  in  black.  Squeak- 
ir'Tf,  squeaking,  the  cart  came  up  the  path.  The  diplomatic  Eliza  left 
Divid  at  the  front  and  went  around  the  side  path  toward  the  lady. 
David  did  not  cry;  David  seldom  cried. 

"Are  you  the  lady  that  lives  here?"  asked  Eliza. 

The  lady  took  a  moist  handkerchief  down  from  her  eyes  and  looked 
with  a  start  at  the  small  Eliza  standing  at  the  foot  of  the  side  steps. 
She  nodded. 

"Would  you  like  to  buy  a  baby?" 

"A — what  ?"  asked  the  lady  in  a  strange  voice. 

"A  baby.     I  have  one  to  sell." 

The  lady  sat  up  very  straight.     "How  much  is  it  worth?" 

"I  don't  know ;  I'll  let  you  see  him  and  then  perhaps  you  can  tell." 

Eliza  trotted  around  to  the  front,  gave  David's  red  curls  a  rub  in 
the  right  direction,  sighed  at  his  dirty  hands,  then  pulled  the  cart  around 
to  the  side. 

"So  that  is  the  baby,"  said  the  lady.  Take  him  out  and  let  me 
look  at  him." 

Eliza  pulled  David  out  of  the  box  and  tugged  him,  limply  indiflFer- 
ent,  up  the  steps.  The  lady  looked  at  him.  She  held  out  her  hand  and 
David  caught  at  her  finger ;  then,  with  a  gurgle  of  pleasure,  fell  against 
her  knee.  The  lady  bent  over  him ;  she  patted  the  curls  and  held  the 
baby  hand.  "This  baby  is  worth  a  great  deal,"  she  said.  "Why  do 
you  want  to  sell  him  ?" 

"Because  there's  six  more  like  him — not  exactly  like  him  'cause  I'm 
one ;  but  we've  got  a  good  many  babies  and  not  much  money  and  I 
thought — I — I  have  to  take  care  of  him  all  the  time — ^and  the  girls  don't 
always  like  to  have  him  'round." 

"Do  you  think  he's  worth  a  hundred  dollars  ?"  asked  the  lady. 

A  hundred  dollars !  Why,  of  course,  no  baby  in  the  world  could 
be  worth  that ! 

"T — I  think  ten  would  be  enough,"  said  Eliza  tremulously. 

"I  can't  pay  you  all  at  once,"  said  the  lady.  She  stooped  and  lifted 
the  babv  into  her  lap  and  he  leaned  against  her,  laughing  contentedly. 
"But  I'll  pay  bv  installments." 

"What's  that  ?"  asked  Eliza  with  dread. 

"Why  little  by  little,  you  know.  If  he  suits  me,  I'll  pay  it  all :  hat 
meantime  I'll  give  you — how  much  shall  I  give  you  till  we  get  ac- 
quainted ?" 

"Ten  cents  would  do  for  tonight,"  said  Eliza. 


«1 
«1 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  425 

The"  lady  took  up  a  dangling  silver  purse  and,  holding  it  out  of 
reach  of  the  baby's  fingers,  she  extracted  a  dime. 

"I  suppose  you'll  give  this  to  your  mother,"  she  said  gravely. 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  answered  Eliza  with  greater  gravity. 

"And  here's  one  cent  for  you  to  spend.  And  here's  my  card  to 
show  your  mother  who's  bought  the  baby." 

Eliza  stood  lodcine  at  the  lady. 

"Good-by,"  said  the  lady.     "What's  his  name  ?" 

'David,"  answered  Eliza. 

'David  and  I  are  going  into  the  house,"  said  the  lady.  She  gath- 
ered the  baby  up  in  her  arms,  and  he,  playing  with  the  silver  purse, 
never  looked  at  Eliza. 

"Do  you — do  you" — asked  Eliza,  "know  how  to  take  care  of 
babies?" 

The  lady's  lips  quivered.  "Very  well  indeed,"  she  said,  and  then 
she  went  into  the  house  and  shut  the  door. 

"I'll  leave  the  cart,"  shouted  Eliza;  "you  may  need  it." 

Nobody  answered,  and  Eliza  walked  slowly  away.  She  tied  the 
card  and  the  dime  in  the  corner  of  her  pocket  handkerchief,  but  she 
held  the  penny  in  her  hand.  When  she  reached  the  postoffice  the  boys 
were  gone,  so  she  went  in  and  bought  ten  candy  marbles  for  a  cent. 
Then  she  went  on  to  Amy's  house.  The  candy  was  delicious  and 
sticky  and  Eliza^s  marbles  were  delightfully  hard.  The  little  girls 
kindly  inquired  about  David,  but  did  not  follow  up  Eliza's  evasive  an- 
swers.   Eliza  ought  to  have  had  a  beautiful  time ;  but  she  did  not. 

"I'll  walk'  home  with  you,"  she  said  to  Catharine  Whitney,  who 
lived  at  the  other  end  of  the  village. 

"It's  way  out  of  your  way,"  said  Catharine,  with  more  truth  than 
politeness. 

"I  don't  care,"  said  Eliza ;  but  she  walked  so  slowly  that  Catharine 
protested : 

"You  act  dreadful  queer,  Eliza;  are  you  sick  or  anything?" 
*  "No,"  answered  Eliza. 

She  said  good-by  to  Catharine  at  the  gate,  and  then  she  waited  some 
time  before  she  began  to  walk  towards  home.  The  sun  was  setting  and 
pouring  a  golden  glory  over  the  world,  but  it  all  seemed  dark  to  Eliza. 
She  walked  more  and  more  slowly.  Her  head  was  hanging  low,  so 
that  those  who  passed  should  not  see  the  tears  in  her  eyes.  What  was 
the  matter  ?  She  took  out  her  handkerchief  and  felt  the  ten  cents  in  the 
comer.  She  was  coming  to  the  postoffice  now.  Up  that  street  she  had 
trundled  David  to  his  new  home.     Eliza  stopped  and  threw  up  her  head. 

"David !"  she  called ;  then  up  the  road  she  went  like  a  deer. 

The  maid  of  the  lady  who  had  purchased  David,  had  just  said  at 
the  door  of  an  upstairs  room : 

"A  little  girl  to  see  you,  mum,"  when  Eliza  pushed  past  her. 

Eliza  was  breathless ;  there  were  tear-streaks  on  her  cheeks ;  she 
threw  herself  on  a  baby  sitting  in  sweet  placidity  on  the  floor. 


426  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

"Oh,  David,  David,''  she  cried,  "don't  you  know  sister,  don't  vou 
love  'Liza?" 

David  gurgled  and  thrust  the  nose  of  a  woolly  lamb  in  Eliza's  face. 
Then  the  lady  who  was  sitting  very,  very  near  David  said : 

"What  do  you  want,  little  girl  ?  This  is  my  baby,  I  bought  him 
today." 

,  "Oh,  no,  he  isn't,  he  isn't,  he's  mine."  Eliza  caught  David  around 
his  fat  shoulders  and  dragged  him  toward  the  door.  "I'll  give  you 
back  your  ten  cents  and  your  penny  when  I  earn  another,  but  you  can't 
you  can't  have  him." 

"Wait,  little  girl,  wait,  you  are  hurting  him,"  for  David  had  begun 
to  whimper.     "Let  me  speak  to  you  a  moment,  dear." 

Something  in  the  lady's  eyes  made  Eliza  let  her  take  David  into 
her  lap,  though  Eliza  stood  close  by. 

"Once  I  had  a  baby  something  like  David,"  the  lady  put  her  lips 
against  David's  curls.  "And  God  took  him  away — and — and  I  can't 
have  him  back.  You  can  have  David  back — but  don't  try  to  give  away 
or  sell  or  lose  anything  that  loves  you.  Some  day  there  won't  be  so 
many  and  you'll  want  to  remember  that  you  always  loved  everybody 
God  gave  you  to  love.  You  should  be  very  happy  to  have  so  many 
people." 

"Yes-m,"  said  Eliza.     "Here's  your  ten  cents."    . 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  lady.  "David  is  going  to  take  the  woolly 
lamb  home  with  him  and — has  he  a  pretty  coat  and  hat?  It's  cool  now 
the  sun  is  down." 

"Mother  is  going  to  make  him  a  nice  coat  when  she  has  time." 
said  Eliza. 

"I  have  one  that  will  just  fit  him,"  said  the  lady. 

As  they  went  creaking  down  the  driveway  a  little  later  David  had 
on  a  pretty  coat  and  hat  and  the  woolly  lamb  in  his  arms.  The  lady 
walked  beside  Eh'za  to  the  gate.     Then  she  said  good-by. 

"Bring  David  to  see  me  sometimes." 

"Yes-m,"  answered  Eliza.     "Good-by." 

Eliza  flew  toward  home  with  now  and  then  a  careful  backward  eye 
on  David  and  the  cart.  Near  her  own  house  Mary  came  running 
toward  her. 

"Oh,  Eliza,  where 've  you  been  so  long?  Mother's  most  crazy. 
She's  afraid  something's  happened  to  you  or  David." 

"There  hasn't,"  Eliza  nodded  happily.  "She  might  have  known  I 
wouldn't  let  anything  happen  to  David." 


"Oh,  be  humble  my  brother,  in  your  prosperity?  Be  gentle  with 
those  who  are  less  lucky,  if  not  more  deserving.  Think,  what  right 
have  you  to  be  scornful,  whose  virtues  is  a  deficiency  of  temptation, 
whose  success  may  be  a  chance,  whose  rank  may  be  an  ancestor's 
accident,  whose  prosperity  is  very  likely  a  satire?" — Thackery, 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  427 

AN  INHERITANCE. 

"I  just  can't  help  it,"  said  Alice,  impatiently.  "I  get  my  high 
temper  straight  from  grandfather,  and  my  blues  from  mother's  side  of 
the  house.  When  a  thing's  born  in  you  in  that  way,  what  are  you 
going  to  do?" 

"Well,"  said  Mrs.  Wharton,  thoughtfully,  "I  should  say  tha(  you 
could  do  one  of  two  things.  The  first  is  to  carry  out  your  inherited  ten- 
dencies, one  by  one,  to  their  logical  conclusions — ^to  be  just  as  angry 
and  just  as  cross  and  depressed  as  you  feel  like  being,  because  your 
grandfather  and  your  mother's  side  of  the  house  have  had  those  faults 
before  you." 

"Oh,  I  don't  exactly  mean  that !"  cried  Alice,  rather  startled. 
"Still,  that  is  really  what  you  might  logically  do;  especially  if,  as 
you  said,  you  couldfi't  help  doing  it.  The  other  way,  though,  I  must 
confess,  always  seems  to  me  the  more  reasonable  one  for  a  sane  and 
responsible  human  being.  That  is,  having  ascertained  your  ancestral 
traits — ^the  good  as  well  as  the  bad — to  go  to  work  to  shape  out  of  them 
the  character  that  you  want.  Of  course,  there  will  be  some  places 
rather  hard  to  work  into  shape,  but,  knowing  your  material,  after  all, 
gives  you  a  great  advantage." 

"Grandfather's  temper  an  advantage!"  cried  Alice.  "I  never 
looked  at  it  in  that  light,  Mra.  Wharton." 

"Your  grandfather  was  a  man  of  strong  will  and  great  energy.  I 
have  always  heard,"  said  Mrs.  Wharton.  "Those  qualities  often  go 
with  a  high  temper.  Suppose  you  fix  your  mind  upon  shaping  a  strong 
character  out  of  your  inherited  temper.  It  will  take  thought  and  time 
and  prayer,  but  it  can  be  done,  as  dozens  of  people  will  tell  you  who 
have  accomplished  it.  Take  your  Cousin  Will — with  the  same  ancestral 
temper." 

"Oh,  but  I  never  saw  Cousin  Will  angry  in  my  life,"  said  Alic^. 
"When  he  doesn't  like  a  thing,  he  just  shuts  his  lips  together  and  keeps 
quiet.     I've  often  noticed  it." 

"Yet  your  Cousin  Will  told  me  once,"  said  Mrs.  Wharton,  "that 
when  he  was  a  boy  his  temper  was  most  ungovernable.  'But,'  he  said, 
'I  knew  I  had  it,  and  that  it  was  an  inheritance,  and  I  determined  to 
watch  it.  "Forewarned  is  forearmed,"  you  know,  and  I  found  it  sa 
When  I  felt  myself  getting  angry  I  went  oflF  somewhere  alone  and 
fought  it  out — and  every  time  told.  And  when  I  got  it  once  under 
control  I  was  surprised  to  find  how  much  power  I  had  gained.  I  have 
often  been  thankful  to  my  grandfather  since  for  the  moral  gunpowder, 
so  to  speak,  that  he  left  to  me — now  that  it  doesn't  explode  any  more, 
but  drills  holes  in  the  rock  for  me  instead.'  You  can  appreciate  that, 
Alice,  for  you  know  how  many  rocks  of  hindrance  your  cousin  has  met 
and  overcome." 

"It's  a  new  idea,"  said  Alice,  slowly ;  "but  I  think  it's  a  good  one. 
Thank  you,  Mrs.  Wharton.  I'll  let  the  first  way  go  and  try  the  second, 
from  this  day  forward." — Selected. 


"Our  papa  is  very  good,  isn't  he,  Bobbie?  Other  papas  do  not 
make  such  beautiful  playhouses  for  their  children."  That  was  what 
Bee  said. 

"I  like  to  play  down  at  the  cornstalk  playhouse  the  best,"  Bobbie 
said. 

"Oh,  Bobbie,  how  car  you  ?"  Bee  said :  "We  haven't  any  dear  little 
yellowbird  down  at  the  cornstalk  playhouse.     I  like  this  one  the  best  1" 

"I  get  tired  here  keeping  still,"  Bobbie  said,  yawning.  "I  wish  she 
would  get  her  eggs  hatched  so  we  could  see  the  little  birds." 

Bobbie  and  Bee  were  in  the  hemlock  playhouse ;  and  this  is  the 
way  the  hemlock  playhouse  was  made.  First  there  were  poles,  many 
poles,  nailed  between  two  hemlock  trees,  and  then  there  were  many 
hemlock  boughs  woven  in  and  out,  and  pverhead,  forming  a  fine  strong 
roof. 

A  dear  little  yellowbird  had  built  her  nest  in  the  boughs  in  one 
comer  of  the  playhouse,  and  had  laid  four  tiny  eggs,  and  now  she  was 
sitting  upon  them  waiting  for  her  babies  to  come  out. 

Bobbie  and  Bee  sat  at  a  little  round  table  spread  with  bits  of  broken 
dishes.  They  had  a  nice  feast  of  bread  and  butter  and  doughnuts  and 
apples,  and  they  were  as  cosy  as  cosy  could  be. 

"Once  when  I  was  in  here  alone  the  mother-bird  flew  out  of  the 
nest  and  came  down  and  lit  right  near  my  foot,"  Bee  said,  looking  up 
at  the  two  bright  eyes  watching  them  from  the  nest.  "I  held  out  mv 
hand  and  said,  'Come  little  sweetheart.  Bee  will  not  hurt  you,'  and  she 
flew  right  down  to  me.  Bobbie  t"     She  truly  did. 

"Try  now,  and  see  if  she'll  fly  down  to  you,"  said  Bobbie.  *'I'U  kee-i 
still." 

"Won't  you  squeal  if  she  starts  to  come?" 

"No,  I'll  keep  just  as  still  as  still,"  said  Bobbie. 

Bee  held  out  her  little  hand. 

"Come,  little  sweetheart.  Bee  will  not  hurt  you,"  she  said  in  coax- 
ing tones. 

The  yellowbird  stepped  out  on  the  edge  of  her  nest.  "Peep'" 
she  said. 

Bobbie  crammed  his  fist  into  his  mouth  to  keep  from  squealing— 
he  was  so  excited  and  pleased. 

"Come,  and  see  what  we  have  for  our  dinner,  darhng,"  Bee  said. 
reaching  out  her  hand  a  little  further. 

And  what  do  you  think  that  yellowbird  did? 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  429 

Why,  she  said,  "Peep,  peep,"  and  down  she  flew  and  lit  on  Bee's 
shoulder ! 

"She  didn't  do  that  before!"  Bee  whispered.  "Oh  Bobbie,  keep 
still,  keep  still !"  And  she  took  a  crumb  of  bread,  and  held  it  up  quite 
near  the  yellowbird's  bill — ^but  no,  oh,  no,  that  yellowbird  did  not  quite 
dare  to  eat  from  little  Bee's  fingers !  Away  she  flew,  out  of  the  door 
of  the  hemlock  playhouse,  and  up,  up,  up  into  a  hemlock  tree. 

And  Bobbie  jumped  up  and  said,  "I  am  going  to  look  into  the  nest 
while  she  is  away  and  see  if  her  little  eggs  are  hatching."  And  he 
took  his  little  chair  and  stood  on  tiptoe  and  looked  into  the  yellowbird's 
nest 

"Oh,  Bee !"  he  cried,  and  his  blue  eyes  opened  very  wide.  "There's 
a  little  baby  bird  peeking  at  me  out  of  one  of  the  little  shells." 

And  Bee  stood  in  the  little  chair  beside  Bobbie,  and  looked  into 
the  nest.  "Oh,  isn't  it  funny,"  she  said  in  a  whisper.  "How  could  a 
little  bird  grow  into  a  little  bird,  when  it  was  all  shut  uj  ti  an  egg-shell, 
Bobbie?" 

Bobbie  said  nothing,  and  jumped  down  from  the  chair  and  ran  out 
of  the  playhouse.  "Come  home !  you  have  a  baby  bird  in  your  nest !"  he 
called,  looking  up  into  the  tree  where  the  yellowbird  was  sitting. 

And  that  yellowbird  mother  flew  down  from  the  tree,  and  into 
the  playhouse  and  lit  on  the  edge  of  her  nest.  "Peep,  peep!  peep! 
peep!"  she  said,  which  meant,  "Oh,  you  darling,  I  am  glad  you  have 
come !" 

And  down  the  yellowbird  mother  sat  in  the  nest  and  cuddled  that 
dear  little  baby  bird  up  close  to  her  breast. 

And  Bobbie  hopped  on  one  foot  and  said  to  Bee,  "Come,  let  the 
little  bird  sleep,  and  let  us  go  down  to  our  cornstalk  playhouse  to  play." 

And  Bee  said,  "All  right.  Goodby,  dear  mother-bird.  We'll  come 
again  tomorrow  and  see  your  baby." 

Away  Bee  and  Bobbie  ran  out  of  the  hemlock  playhouse  and  out 
of  the  hemlock  woods  and  down  across  the  meadows  to  the  edge  of  the 
cornfield,  and  there  was  the  wonderful  cornstalk  playhouse. 

And  this  is  the  way  the  cornstalk  playhouse  was  made.  First  there 
were  four  strong  posts  placed  in  the  ground,  forming  a  square;  and 
there  were  poles,  many  poles,  nailed  from  one  post  to  the  other,  and  all 
between  the  poles  the  yellow  cornstalks  were  placed ;  and  overhead  there 
was  a  fine  strong  roof  made  of  cornstalks  too. 

And  Bee  clapped  her  hands  and  said,  "Oh,  see,  see,  Bobbie  dear,  our 
cornstalk  playhouse  looks  like  gold  shining  in  the  sun !" 

And  Bobbie  said,  "Yes,  it  does.  Let  us  play  that  you  live  all  alone 
in  the  cornstalk  playhouse,  and  I'll  be  a  bear  and  live  in  the  corn  and 
growl,  and  run  after  you !" 

And  Bee  said,  "All  right,  only  I'll  not  be  truly  afraid  for  I'll  know 
ifs  only  you,  Bobbie." 

"Well,  pretend  afraid  anyway,"  said  Bobbie.       And  he  ran  in 


430  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

among  the  tall  corn  and  Bee  went  into  the  cornstalk  playhouse  and  sat 
down  and  waited. 

And  all  at  once  she  heard  a  bear  growling  and  running  around  out- 
side of  the  playhouse. 

'*Oh,  oh,  I  hear  a  bear !  I  hear  a  bear !"  she  said,  and  pretended  to 
cry  very  loud. 

And  the  bear  growled  louder  and  louder. 

"Now  Tm  coming  in  and  eat  you  up,"  said  Bobbie.  And  he  put 
his  little  head  into  the  door  of  the  playhouse  and  growled  again. 

**Oh,  oh,  it's  only  a  little  baby  bear,*'  said  Bee,  clapping  her  hands. 
"It's  only  a  baby  bear  three  years  old,  with  golden  hair — I'm  not 
afraid !" 

And  Bobbie  stopped  growling  and  pouted  his  lips.  "Now  Bee, 
you've  spoiled  all  the  fun !     Why  didn't  you  pretend  to  be  afraid  ?" 

And  Bee  laughed  and  said,  "All  right,  Bobbie  dear,  we'll  play  it 
again." 

And  they  played  it  again,  and  this  time  Bee  pretended  to  be  afraid, 
and  Bobbie  pretended  that  he  was  a  very  large  bear  and  ate  her  up. 

Bobbie  never  was  satisfied  unless  he  had  eaten  her. 

Bobbie  always  wanted  to  play  "bear,"  when  they  came  down  to  the 
cornstalk  playhouse  to  play.     He  just  loved  to  growl  and  to  eat  Bee  up. 

And  there  was  no  dear  little  yellowbird  in  the  cornstalk  playhouse 
to  disturb,  you  see.     And  that  was  why  he  liked  it  best. 

Now,  which  playhouse  would  you  have  liked  the  best? 


"BE  GENTLE." 


"What  is  in  the  heart  will  appear  in  the  face." 

"What  a  pretty  girl !"  said  the  observer. 

"Not  so  pretty  as  she  was  a  year  ago,"  said  a  quicker-eyed  one,  "for 
her  temper  is  beginning  to  show  through." 

Five  years  later  every  one  could  see  what  he  meant,  for  the  "show- 
ing through"  was  too  plain  to  be  overlooked ;  and  the  pretty  girl  was  a 
frowning.  thin-li])ped  woman.  We  may  be  sure  that  what  we  are  will 
write  itself  on  our  faces  before  we  get  through,  no  matter  what  the  un- 
formed outlines  of  youth  may  be. 

Who  has  not  seen  the  wrinkled  and  knotty  temper  '*showing 
through?"     **Be  gentle!" — Selected. 


**It  looks  sensible  to  avoid  every  spell  of  anger  we  can.  We  run 
from  a  hornet's  nest,  flee  from  mad  dogs,  jump  from  snakes,  and  shun 
poison  vines.  Why  not  observe  the  same  care  in  avoiding  things  that 
bite  and  inflame  our  temper?" 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  431 

GRANDMOTHER'S  STORY. 

Teddy  was  a  strong,  brave  little  fellow,  clever  at  his  books,  though 
he  didn't  care  much  about  studying.  His  worst  fault  was  a  fiery  temper. 
But  he  was  trustworthy  and  loyal  and  a  great  favorite  with  every  one. 

One  day  a  game  of  ball  was  being  played  between  the  two  divisions 
of  Ted's  school.  One  side  was  called  the  "Red,"  the  other  the  "Blue." 
Teddy  had  a  bright  blue  ribbon  knotted  in  his  coat.  As  the  battle  grew 
more  and  more  equally  contested  every  one  became  very  much  excited, 
and  Teddy,  who  was  "fielder," — I  think  you  boys  call  it — was  bound 
to  win. 

All  the  girls  from  the  schools,  and  the  boys  who  were  not  playing, 
were  watching  eagerly.  Shouts^  for  the  "Red"  were  met  with  louder 
shouts  for  the  "Blue."  Just  at  the  most  exciting  point  an  old  white- 
haired  Negro  with  a  large  pack  on  his  back  seated  himself  under  a  tree 
to  watch  the  game.  With  him  was  a  dirty  little  black  terrier,  who,  when 
he  saw  that  his  master  was  interested  in  the  game,  ran  up  nearer  the 
players. 

Just  then  the  ball  came  flying  through  the  air  and  Teddy  made  a 
rush  for  it.  He  just  missed  catching  it,  and  before  he  could  pick  it  up 
the  little  black  terrier  had  saved  him  the  trouble.  With  the  ball  be- 
tween his  teeth,  the  rascally  little  dog  went  scurrying  away  from  the 
players  and  ran  down  the  road. 

Of  course,  the  game  was  interrupted,  and  Teddy's  anger  rose  to 
white  heat.  He  tore  after  the  dog,  the  other  boys  following  him,  and, 
hobbling  along  in  the  rear,  came  the  dog's  bewildered  old  owner. 

The  dog,  thinking  he  was  adding  greatly  to  the  pleasure  of  the  occa- 
sion was  enjoying  the  sport  more  than  those  who  had  been  interrupted 
just  at  the  most  exciting  part  of  the  game.  He  led  his  pursuers  a  great 
chase ;  down  the  road,  across  a  field,  through  a  wood  and  across  a  brook. 
He  was  finally  caught,  just  as  he  was  recovering  the  ball,  which  he  had 
dropped.  It  was  Teddy  who  pounced  upon  him,  threw  the  ball  to  one 
of  the  boys  and,  picking  up  a  stick,  beat  the  frolicsome  little  dog  furi- 
ously. 

Teddy's  comrades  were  half  frightened  by  his  terrible  rage  and  did 
not  dare  to  interfere.  When  at  last  he  flung  the  stick  to  one  side  the  old 
colored  man,  breathless  from  his  hard  walk,  pushed  his  way  through  the 
crowd  of  boys,  took  the  quivering,  moaning  little  dog  in  his  arms  and 
bent  over  him  tenderly,  the  tears  running  down  his  cheeks : 

**He  didn't  mean  no  harm,  pore  li'le  Tip,  an'  youse  hurt  me  a  great 
deal  wusser'n  you  hurt  him,  ma  boy,  caze  he's  all  Ise  got."  ? 

The  game  was  not  finished.  Teddy's  anger  suddenly  left  him.  He 
walked  off  home  without  a  word  to  any  one.  After  that  he  refused  to 
play  ball.     You  see  he  was  punishing  himself  for  his  cruelty. 

He  never  spoke  of  the  incident  to  any  one,  and  when  the  other  boys 
alluded  to  it  he  looked  so  solemn  that  they  all  hushed  up,  and  gradually 
the  old  colored  man  and  the  little  dog  were  forgotten. 


432 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


Several*  months  later  Teddy  and  some  companions  were  walking 
home  from  school  in  the  afternoon.  They  had  been  laughing  and 
talking  until  the  sight  of  a  familiar  gray-haired  figure  in  front  of  them 
made  them  suddenly  stop  and  look  at  Ted. 

The  old  colored  man  was  shambling  along  as  fast  as  he  could,  cry- 
ing as  he  went : 

"Oh,  ma  dog;  ma  pore  li'le  dog.  They'll  kill  him  sure.  Oh, 
gimme  ma  dog,  caze  he's  all  Ise  got." 

Ted  took  in  the  situation  in  a  minute.  He  stripped  off  his  jacket 
and  called  to  the  old  man : 

*They  shan't  hurt  him.  Fll  get  him  for  you."  Away  he  rushed, 
every  boy  following  at  his  heels. 

Down  the  road  was  a  lumbering  old  hay  wagon  driven  by  two  big 
farmer  boys.  When  they  saw  they  were  followed  they  whipped  up  their 
horses. 

"Stop  there,  you  and  give  up  that  dog,"  Ted  shouted. 

At  hst  the  wagon  stopped  suddenly  and  Teddy  tore  up  to  its  side. 
One  of  the  boys  seized  an  armful  of  hay  to  throw  in  his  upturned  face, 
but  Teddy  was  too  quick  for  him.  Dodging  the  hay  he  sprang  up  into 
the  wagon  and  grabbed  Tip.  The  boys  in  the  rear  cheered  and  shouted. 
Ted  turned  to  jump  to  the  ground,  but  at  that  instant  the  horses  started 
off,  throwing  the  gallant  little  fellow  off  to  the  front  of  the  wagon,  and 
a  dreadful  wheel  went  over  him.  Tip  ran  to  his  master,  unhurt.  But 
Teddy — well,  Teddy,  it  was  a  long  time  before  he  was  able  to  run  again. 
But  one  day,  long  afterward,  as  he  lay  propped  up  in  his  chair,  he  said: 

"Grandmother,  if  I  had  to  be  hurt,  Vm  glad  I  was  hurt  when  I  was 
and  not  at  another  time." 

"Why,  what  do  you  men?"  I  asked. 

"Well,"  he  explained,  "you  see  the  other  time  might  have  been 
when  I  was  running  after  Tip  in  such  a  rage ;  then  I  could  never  have 
run  to  save  him,  to  try  to  make  it  up  to  old  Ben,  you  know." 

Teddy  got  well  again,  but  he  was  lame  always,  and  his  fiery  temper 
never  returned  to  him.  He  lost  it  for  good  the  day  he  tried  to  "make 
it  up  to  old  Ben." — Washington  Star. 


r  ik   Ig)@iriTQ    @\^giIlfl®^o  V^ 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  433 

A  BAD-TEMPERED  ELEPHANT. 

BY  WILUAM   RITTENHOUSE. 

L^st  November,  in  the  winter  quarters  of  the  Bamum  and  Bailey 
Circus,  the  famous  elephant,  Columbia,  was  put  to  death.  It  is  no  easy 
matter  to  kill  a  big  elephant,  and  Columbia  was  so-  clever  a  creature  that 
she  would  not  take  either  poisons  or  anaesthetics  in  her  food.  It  took 
twenty  canvasmen  to  strangle  her  to  death  with  a  block  and  fall.  Her 
trainer  superintended  the  execution,  and  was  sad  over  it,  for  Columbia 
was  a  most  intelligent  and  valuable  elephant  She  was  a  native  Ameri- 
can elephant,  having  been  bom  in  Philadelphia  twenty-eight  years  ago — 
the  original  baby  elephant.  She  was  worth  a  great  many  thousands  of 
dollars,  and.  nothing  but  the  most  absolute  necessity  compelled  the 
keepers  to  kill  her. 

Why  was  Columbia  killed  ?  She  had  no  incurable  disease,  she  was 
healthy  and  strong.  Elephants  live  a  hundred  years  and  more,  so  she 
was  yet  very  young.  Where  was  the  necessity  for  ending  her  career- 
The  answer  is  in  five  short  words :     Columbia  had  a  bad  temper. 

Now,  a  bad  temper  is  a  dangerous  thing,  even  in  boys  and  girls. 
When  a  boy  is  in  a  bad  temper,  he  wants  to  hurt  somebody,  or  knock 
something  around.  When  a  girl  is  in  a  bad  temper,  she  is  often  filled 
with  hatred  against  those  around  her.  "I  wish  you  were  dead!"  "I 
would  like  to  kill  you!"  are  terrible  words  often  said  in  the  heat  of 
anger.  Luckily  for  most  people,  the  fit  of  anger  passes  before  they  have 
a  chance  to  harm  anybody.  But  with  an  elephant,  you  see,  it  is  different. 
The  elephant  is  so  tremendously  strong,  and  the  keepers  are  among  the 
herd  so  frequently,  that  a  bad-tempered  elephant  can  usually  kill  or 
injure  a  man  whenever  it  gets  into  a  fit  of  sullen  rage.  Columbia  had 
made  a  number  of  iattacks  upon  her  keepers.  The  trainer  was  unable 
to  do  an3rthing  with  her  when  she  became  ang^,  and  neither  he,  nor 
anyone  else,  could  tell  when  she  would  get  angry  next.  So,  valuable 
and  clever  as  she  was,  her  ill  temper  cost  her  her  life.  Nothing  else 
could  be  done  but  to  kill  her,  for  she  was  a  daily  danger  to  everyone 
who  went  near  her. 

Now,  Columbia's  ill  temper  was  not  a  sin.  An  elephant,  though 
a  most  intelligent  creature,  has  not  a  reasoning  mind  nor  a  responsible 
soul.  It  could  not  be  explained  to  Columbia  that  what  she  was  doing 
was  wrong,  or  that  she  would  be  killed  if  she  went  on  in  her  fits  of 
rage.  Her  anger  was  just  a  blind  animal  thing.  So,  of  course,  is 
almost  all  human  anger.  But  boys  and  girls,  and  men  and  women,  have 
reasoning  minds,  and  immortal  souls.  They  can  hold  down  the  raging 
animal  nature  within  them,  and  control  themselves.  Unlike  poor  Colum- 
bia, they  know  better,  and  they  know  that  anger  is  a  sin  and  will  be 
punished.  The  smallest  child  is  more  powerful  in  this  than  the  biggest 
elephant;  for  the  smallest  child  can  beg^n  to  control  himself  or  her- 
self before  the  habit  of  bad  temper  gets  started,  or  even  can  conquer 


434  ////;  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

it  when  it  lias  Hr'.">vii  quite  stronfj.  I  f  a  boy  wants  to  be  valuable  in  the 
world,  be  must  control  his  temper.  If  a  girl  wishes  to  be  influential 
and  beloved,  she  mu.=t  conquer  bad  temper.  Otherwise,  the  value  of 
life  will  fin  steadily  down,  as  it  did  in  Columbia's  case,  till  only  a 
worthless  man  or  woman  is  left,  more  fit  to  die  than  to  live.  When  \-ovi 
are  tempted  to  indulge  in  anger,  boys  and  girls,  think  of  Columbia— 
and  keep  your  temper  and  your  value. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  435 

CARRIE'S  COMPOSITE  EXPRESSION. 

PRISCILLA  LEONARD. 

Carrie  is  an  only  daughter,  and  some  say  that  she  is  spoiled.  It 
would  not  be  much  wonder  if  she  were ;  she  has  four  big  brothers  who 
pet  her  a  great  deal.  Carrie  is  just  twelve,  but  she  feels  much  older, 
and  perhaps  more  important  than  is  good  for  her.  She  is  accustomed, 
too,  to  having  her  own  way,  and  gets  out  of  temper  if  things  are  not  as 
she  likes  them. 

She  has  never  been  out  of  temper  with  Cousin  Ethel,  though,  be- 
cause she  admires  her  so  much.  Cousin  Ethel  is  the  best  sort  of  com- 
pany when  she  comes  on  a  visit ;  and  she  always  has  some  new  and 
bright  idea  that  she  is  carrying  out.  This  year  she  is  deeply  interested 
in  composite  photographs.  She  always  has  taken  beautiful  photo- 
graphs, and  now  she  is  trying  experiment  in  this  novel  line.  You 
know  that  a  composite  picture  is  the  result  of  a  great  many  photo- 
graphs, thrown  one  after  another  on  the  same  plate  or  film,  until  the 
leading  points  stand  out,  and  the  rest  are  obscured.  Perhaps  you  may 
have  seen  the  composite  photograph  of  the  American  college  girl,  or 
the  one  of  all  the  madonnas  of  the  old  masters.  Such  a  photograph, 
as  Cousin  Ethel  explained  to  Carrie,  brings  out  the  type  that  underlies 
all  the  different  faces,  and  leaves  out  the  more  unimportant  variations. 

Carrie  was  very  much  interested.  So  one  day,  when  Cousin  Ethel 
said,  "Now,  Carrie  I  am  going  to  make  an  experiment  on  you ;  I  am 
going  to  take  a  composite  picture  of  your  face  in  all  its  expressions," 
Carrie  thought  that  would  be  great  fun.  Cousin  Ethel  wen^ 
out  to  explain  that  she  did  not  want  Carrie  to  sit  for 
her,  but  would  just  take  '*snap  shots''  at  her  whenever  she  thought  it 
best.  The  first  picture  was  taken  when  Carrie  was  reading  on  the 
porch,  looking  very  quiet  and  studious.  The  next  was  taken  when  she 
came  in,  bright  and  smiling,  from  a  ride  on  her  wheel.  A  third  was 
taken  when  she  was  teaching  the  dog  to  sit  up.  Carrie  got  accustomed 
to  the  click  of  the  little  camera,  for  Cousin  Ethel  took  her  dozens  of 
times  that  week.  It  was  a  week  when  several  things  put  Carrie  out  of 
temper,  and  she  had  one  or  two  quarrels  with  her  brothers  and  her  play- 
mates. Once,  she  heard  the  click  of  the  "snap  shot,"  but  she  was  far 
too  angr}'  to  care,  and  only  tossed  her  head.  Another  day.  because  she 
could  not  have  her  own  way,  she  sulked  for  an  hour  or  two,  and  the 
camera  caught  that,  too.  "I  think  I  have  about  all  of  your  moods  and 
tenses  by  this  time,  Carrie,"  said  Cousin  Ethel,  tapping  the  camera 
smilingly,  at  the  end  of  the  week,  "and  now  we  shall  see  what  we 
shall  see." 

Carrie,  who  was  in  a  very  good  humor  again,  waited  impatiently 
for  the  result  of  all  Cousin  Ethel's  careful  processes  of  work;  but 
when  the  composite  photograph  was  ready,  after  some  days,  it  was  an 
unpleasant  disappointment.     Carrie,  of  course,  always  looked  pleasant 


436  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

when  she  glanced  at  herself  in  the  glass,  and  she  knew  only  that  one 
round,  smiling,  young  face  as  her  own,  so  that  it  was  hard  to  recognize 
this  unfamiliar  composite  expression.  Such  a  lurking  frown  on  the 
picture's  forehead ;  such  ugly  lines  round  the  mouth ;  such  a  disagree- 
able, imperious  expression  about  the  eyes — was  that  the  way  she  really 
looked  ?  Carrie  laid  the  photograph  down  without  a  word.  She  did 
not  know,  indeed,  what  to  say  when  her  brother  broke  in: 

"Say,  it's  good,  isn't  it.  Cousin  Ethel  ?    It's  so  natural." 

"Oh,  I  don't  look  like  that!"  cried  Carrie  appealingly,  to  her 
Cousin,  "do  I?" 

"It  isn't  your  best  expression,  remember,  dear,"  said  Cousin 
Ethel  cheeringly;  "it's  all  your  expressions.  An  angry  expression, 
you  see,  stamps  itself  very  deeply  on  the  face,  and  affects  all  the  smiling 
pictures." 

Carrie  didn't  say  anything  more,  but  she  took  up  the  photograph 
again,  and  went  upstairs  with  it.  Carrie,  however,  can  do  a  good  deal  of 
thinking,  sometimes,  and  Cousin  Ethel  was  not  very  much  surprised 
when  she  saw,  pinned  up  in  her  little  cousin's  room,  not  long  after- 
wards, the  composite  picture  of  the  Madonna,  cut  from  a  magazine,  side 
by  side  with  the  other  composite  photograph  which  had  turned  out  so 
disappointingly.  The  serene,  peaceful,  noble  type  of  the  one  contrasted 
strikingly  with  the  petulant  lines  of  the  other.  "Carrie  is  preaching 
herself  a  silent  sermon,  and  is  doing  it  well,"  said  Cousin  Ethel  to 
herself.  "She  needs  it,  too ;  but  she  is  a  dear  child,  and  she  will  get  the 
right  kind  of  composite  expression  yet,  even  if  it  is  hard  work." 

But  nobody  knows  how  Carrie  cried  when  she  first  put  those 
pictures  up,  and  saw  the  contrast.  Nobody  but  Carrie,  either,  will  ever 
know  how  hard  the  work  of  changing  her  composite  expression  has 
been.  Yet  everybody  notices  a  change ;  and  when  Cousin  Ethel  comes 
next  year,  if  she  tries  the  experiment  again,  she  will  find  that  one  or 
two  expressions,  at  least,  have  been  banished  from  Carrie's  face  forever, 
and  that  a  new  type  is  slowly  forming  its  sweeter  and  nobler  lines 
there.  Perhaps  it  would  be  a  good  thing  for  the  rest  of  us  to  have  a 
composite  photograph  of  ourselves  to  look  at,  and  remodel  on  Carrie's 
plan — ^though  the  first  sight  of  it  might  be  even  a  greater  shock  to  us 
than  hers  brought  that  day  to  her. 

UNCLE  DAN'S  CURE. 

BY  DAISY  WRIGHT  FIELD. 

Isabel,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  often  pouted,  and  if  anyone  missed  her, 
it  was  always  easy  to  think  where  she  might  be  found — ^under  the  stairs, 
or  behind  the  parlor  door,  or  in  grandfather's  easy  chair,  or  on  the 
garden  seat — pouting! 

Anyone  who  chanced  to  see  Isabel  as  she  sat  there,  must  have  said 
that  she  was  not  by  any  means  a  pretty,  little  girl.    Far  from  it!    Her 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  437 

eyes  were  bright  enough,  and  she  had  real,  golden-brown  curls  that 
were  the  envy  of  her  playmates,  pink  cheeks,  and  a  dainty,  white  frock 
tied  with  a  gay,  silk  sash !  But  did  you  ever  see  a  little  girl  pouting 
who  could  be  called  pretty  ?  Lips  forlornly  drawn  down  at  the  comers, 
and  deep  puckers  between  the  downcast  eyes.  There  is  nothing  more 
unlovely !  But  at  any  other  time,  Isabel  might  have  been  considered  a 
very  pretty,  little  g^rl. 

It  wasn't  surprising  that  when  Uncle  Dan,  coming  up  the  walk, 
quite  failed  to  recognize  her.  He  took  off  his  hat,  and  bowed  with  dis- 
tant politeness,  and  inquired  in  his  best  "company"  voice,  if  she  had 
seen  anything  of  his  little  niece. 

The  surprise  in  Isabel's  eyes  chased  away  one  half  the  frown,  as 
she  answered : 

"Why,  I'm  your  only  niece,  Uncle  Dan.  Don't  you  know  me? 
You've  only  been  gone  a  month !" 

With  a  puzzled  air.  Uncle  Dan  slowly  shook  his  head.  "I'm  sure 
I  don't  know  you.  My  niece  is  a  pretty,  little  girl,  who  smiles.  I  was 
bringing  her  a  storybook.  But  if  she  isn't  here,  I  can  take  it  to  Mamie 
True.  She  smiles — oh,  'most  all  the  time!  And  she  never,  never 
pouts !" 

The  sight  of  a  bulky  package  under  Uncle  Dan's  arm,  as  he  was 
turning  away,  quite  chased  away  the  other  half  of  the  frown,  and  the 
comers  of  her  mouth  slowly  but  surely  went  up.  One  dimple  peeked 
out  beside  her  nose,  and  her  white  teeth  showed. 

"Oh  Uncle  Dan,  a  truly  storybook — for  me?" 

Uncle  Dan's  eyes  widened  in  apparent  amazement  as  he  turned 
back  again. 

"Why  Isabel !  To  think  I  didn't  know  you !  This  book  came  very 
near  going  to  Mamie  True !  After  all,"  reflectively,  "Mamie  doesn't 
waste  any  time  pouting,  and  a  girl  who  pouts  until  her  own  dearest 
uncle  doesn't  know  her  by  sight,  hardly  deserves" — 

Now,  if  there  was  anything  on  earth  Isabel  dearly  loved,  it  was 
a  new  storybook.  She  flung  herself  down  from  the  step  and  clasped 
both  arms  round  Uncle  Dan's  knees,  and  cried :  "Please,  uncle,  please 
ni  not  pout  any  more  for  days  and  days !" 

Uncle  Dan  considered  a  moment.  "On  your  promise  of  future 
good  behavior.  I  will  leave  the  book  here.  But — mother  is  to  let 
you  read  just  one  story  a  day — on  the  days  that  you  do  not  pout!" 

Uncle  Dan's  scheme,  if  he  had  any,  worked  admirably.  There 
were  just  forty-eight  stories  in  the  book,  and  in  order  not  to  miss  a 
single  one — for  they  were  all  equally  fascinating, — Isabel  omitted  her 
customary  pout  for  just  forty-eight  days ! 

And  when,  having  finished  the  last  story,  she  sat  down  under  the 
stairway,  on  the  forty-ninth  day,  for  a  good  pout,  she  found  that  she 
couldn't  enjoy  it  as  she  used  to  do,  at  all.  Isabel's  pouting  days  were 
over. 


438  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

THE  WHOLE  WORLD  KIN. 

BY    BERTHA    M.    SHEPHERD. 

*Well,  this  is  slavery,"  muttered  Peter,  the  elevator  man,  to  him- 
self as  the  bell  sounded  imperiously  for  the  first  floor.  "Not  a  breath 
of  fresh  air  have  I  had  since  noon.  I  might  as  well  be  a  machine.  No 
man  can  stand  this  never-ending  down  and  up,  up  amd  down,  in  a  six- 
by-seven  iron  cage." 

Peter  was  new  to  the  running  of  an  elevater.  He  had  been  a  fore- 
man in  a  big  manufactory  until  the  hard  times  that  compelled  his 
firm  to  shut  down  and  discharge  the  majority  of  its  workmen  had 
finally  forced  him  to  accept  any  kind  of  work  he  could  find. 

That  day  the  breath  of  spring  was  in  the  air  out  doors,  while 
within  the  burden  of  steam  heat  added  to  the  season's  languor  and 
intolerable  weight.  Peter  had  sought  repeatedly  to  escape  for  a 
moment's  respite,  but  in  vain.  And  now,  as  he  slammed  the  door  after 
his  passengers,  he  drew  his  cap  down  over  his  surly  eyes  and  pulled 
the  cord  with  an  angry  jerk  that  indicated  a  desire  to  send  the  car 
either  through  the  roof  above  or  the  bottomless  pit  below.  At  least, 
so  it  seemed  to  a  portly,  gray-haired  gentleman  who  had  entered  the 
elevator  and  had  answered  "Seventh"  to  Peter's  gruflf  "What  floor?" 

Peter  frowned  more  deeply  than  ever  as  he  observed  the  costly 
shoes  and  clothing  of  the  gentleman.  "The  bloated  bondholder,"  he 
thought  to  himself." 

"A  murderous  anarchist,"  was  the  mental  comment  of  the  elderly 
passenger,  as  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  dark  face. 

Up  they  flew  for  several  stpries,  but  suddenly  stopped  between 
the  fourth  and  fifth  with  such  precipitateness  that  the  pasengers  were 
thrown  in  sharp  collision  with  one  another  and  Peter. 

^What's  the  matter?'  exclaimed  the  gentleman. 

No  reply  from  Peter  save  a  pull  of  the  rope  that  caused  the  car 
to  dscend  a  few  feet,  where  it  caught  again.  An  upward  pull  and  it 
rose,  but  not  more  than  five  feet.  Then  up  and  down,  up  and  douii, 
succeeded  in  a  sickening  repetition  for  several  minutes.  Then  the 
elderly  man,  holding  wrath  in  stern  control,  placed  a  firm  hand  on 
Peter's  arm  and   said: 

"Young  man,  what  do  you  think  you  are  doing  with  this  car?" 

And  Peter,  with  equal  control  of  his  unreasoning  hatred  for  his 
passenger  answered  coldly,  "The  machinery  is  out  of  order.  It's  not 
my  fault,  but  we  shall  have  to  stay  here,"  stooping  to  look  through 
a  small  crack  made  between  the  floor  of  the  elevator  and  the  door 
of  the  fourth  floor. 

A  messenger  boy  was  passing.  He  stopped  aghast  at  the  sound 
of  a  voice,  close  behind  him.  yet  with  no  visible  owner. 

"Up  here !    I  say,  Johnnie  look  up  here !" 

"Well,  I  never!    Coin'  up?" 


////•:  CIIILUKLN'S  FRIEND.  439 

"No,  we're, not/'  growled  Peter.  "Say,  run  down  to  the  boiler 
room  and  tell  them  the  elevator  is  stuck  between  the  fourth  and  fifth, 
and  be  quick,  will  you?" 

"Ha!  ha!  ha!"  laughed  the  boy.  "That's  a  good  one,'*  as  he 
raced  three  steps  at  a  time  down  the  stairs. 

In  a  few  minutes  sounds  of  pounding  and  wrenching  of  machinery 
were  heard  below,  and  the  boy  reappeared.  "They  said  sumpin'  broke 
in  the  machinery,  but  they're  fixin'  it  right  up,  and  they'll  let  yous 
out  in  about  ten  minutes.  My !  but  you  look  like  a  Cochin  China  in  a 
hen  coop."  And,  not  waiting  for  Peter's  angry  reply,  he  sped  chuckling 
exasperatingly  down  the  stairs. 

The  young  girl  seated  herself  on  the  one  chair  reserved  for  pas- 
sengers and  proceeded  to  unwrap  a  box  she  had  evidently  just  received 
from  the  mail.  The  gentleman  paced  angrily  about  the  narrow  space, 
and  Peter  bent  his  sullen  eyes  upon  the  floor,  turning  his  back  to 
his  passengers.  ^ 

Gradually  a  delicate  perfume  filled  the  car.  The  girl  had  taken 
off  the  box  cover  and  was  lifting  out  a  handful  of  lilies  of  the  valley, 
the  dainty  bells  lying  cool  and  sweet  on  long,  green  leaves. 

Neither  of  the  men  in  the  car  noticed  her  or  realized  the  soothing 
sense  of  fragrance,  but  Peter's  rebellious  heart  seemed  suddenly  calmed 
and  the  old  gentleman  curbed  his  restlessness. 

Pictures  formed  themselves  in  Peter's  mind  of  a  cool,  green  forest 
and  a  far-off  German  home,  while  to  the  old  gentleman  it  was  as 
though  a  soft  hand  touched  his  and  the  presence  of  one  whose  life 
had  been  to  him  as  pure  and  sweet  as  the  lilies  that  she  loved  seemed 
near.  A  tear  rising  to  his  eyelids  fell  gently  on  his  cheeks,  and  Peter, 
raising  his  head  just  then,  thought,  "Poor  old  chap,  how  tired  he 
looks !"  but  he  did  not  say  so.  He  pushed  back  the  cap  from  his  eyes, 
and,  turned  toward  the  girl,  caught  sight  of  the  lilies  in  her  hand. 

"Maiblumchen !"  he  exclaimed,  "Das  schonen  Maiblumchen — that 
is  their  name  in  Germany.  They  g^ow  wild  there  in  the  woods,"  and 
a  bright  smile  changed  the  hitherto  dark  face. 

"Would  you  like  a  few?"  she  said,  extending  a  small  bunch  to 
each. 

The  old  gentleman  took  his  with  trembling  hands.  "They  remind 
me  of  one  whom  I  have  loved  and  lost,"  he  said. 

Peter  touched  his  hat  respectfully.  "It  seems  good  to  see  the 
spring  again,  sir,"  he  said,  hesitatingly. 

"It  does  indeed,"  replied  the  gentleman.  "The  winter  has  been 
hard — ^very  hard — ^but  with  spring  comes  hope.  I  have  lost  almost 
every  cent  I  had.    I  am  alone  in  the  world,  but  I  have  not  lost  hope.** 

A  look  of  surprise  passed  over  Peter's  face.  He  had  not  thought 
of  the  winter  as  hard  for  any  but  the  laboring  man. 

But  a  rapping  on  the  pipes  and  a  voice  from  below  calling,  "All 
right  there,  Peter,"  made  him  spring  to  the  rope.  The  car  rose  smooth- 
ly.   He  stopped  it  carefully  at  the  seventh  floor,  arid  as  the  old  gentle- 


440  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

man  got  out,  he  again  touched  his  cap  and  said  heartily,  "Anything 

I  can  do  to  serve  you,  sir,  I  would  be  glad  to  do," 

"Thank  you"  replied  his  passenger,  "I'll  not  forget  that." 
Then,  the  car  rising  to  the  eighth,  the  young  girl  and  her  box 

o{  lilies  went  their  way,  not  knowing  that  she  had  brought  summer 

to  wintry  hearts. 


LUCKY. 

Tink-a-fink-a-link ! 

This  is  what  I  fink ; 
I'm  a  lucky  darkey  chile, 
Feel  like  singin'  all  de  while — 
I've  a  norange,  an'  a  pine,  sah, 
An'  they  bofe  o'  them  are  mine,  sah! 

(  Tink-O'tin  k-a-Unk, 

Dink-a-dink-a-dink !) 
An'  a  melon,  an'  a  mango, 
An'  a  little  dinky  banjo! 
Feel  like  singin'  all  de  while. 
Such  a  lucky  darky  chile; 

That  is  what  I  fink — 

Tink-a-tink-a-tink  t  — C.  S.  P. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  441 

THE  WEEDS  THAT  BOTHERED  DORA. 

BY  LINNIE   HAWLEY  DRAKE. 

"I  don't  see  who  plants  'em  anyway!"  exclaimed  my  little  neigh- 
bor. She  was  such  a  little  neighbor  that  she  had  squeezed  herself 
through  the  fence  where  a  picket  was  broken  out. 

"Did  you  do  it?"  she  asked,  reproachfully,  and  I  came  around 
to  her  side  of  the  bed. 

"Plant  the  weeds?    Oh,  certainly  not;  they  never  need  planting." 

"But  how  does  they  come  then?" 

"Very  much  like  the  bad  thoughts  and  ways  that  come  into  our 
hearts — just  spring  right  up  and  grow  and  grow  and  grow — if  we 
don't  pull  them  up,  until  all  the  dear  little  lovable  flowers  are  quite 
choked^ut." 

"Has  I  any  in  my  heart  ?" 

She  had  quite  left  off  tugging  at  those  in  the  ground,  and  the 
big  blue  eyes  looked  straight  into  mine. 

"Let  me  see!  You  shall  find  out  for  yourself.  If  truth  is  a 
beautiful  little  flower,  what  would  a  falsehood  be?" 

"Tellin'  stories — lies?    Why — I  'spect  they's  weeds — " 

"Yes,  indeed,  and  terrible  weeds  they  are.  Now,  did  Dora  or 
Tack  break  the  vase  yesterday?  You  know  you  told  mamma  it  was 
jack?" 

Dora  hung  her  head. 

"And  bad  temper  is  another — a  real  nettly  one.  You  know  how 
those  little  sharp  things  hurt  when  you  pull  them  up.  When  one  is 
angry,  they  prick  everybody  that  touches  them — themselves  most  of  all. 
If  we  don't  get  this  weed  when  it's  little,  by  and  by  we  grow  to  be 
a  garden  so  full  of  thistles  wje  sting  everybody." 

"Is  kickin'  the  door,  an'  screamin',  an'  slapin'  back,  weeds — 
prickles?" 

"Would  you  call  them  pretty  flowers?" 

"No.  I  wouldn't.  I  guess  I's  mostly  all  weeds!"  This  with  a 
profound  sigh. 

"That's  what  I  thought  of  this  bed  when  I  came  out  an  hour  ago ; 
but  you  see  how  many  dear  little  plants  we've  found." 

"Yes,  isn't  'em  sweet!  We  won't  let  the  horrid  old  weeds  sting 
you  to  deff"  (caressing  them).  "An'  I'm  goin'  to  get  'em  out  o'  here, 
too.  If  I  don't  tell  stories ;  nor  slap  Jack ;  an'  mind  mamma  quick — 
an' — an' — ^be  pleasant  when  I  don't  want  to  be,  will  they  go  away?" 

I  assured  her  of  this,  and  it  was  several  days  before  I  thought 
again  of  the  lesson  of  the  weeds,  until  the  sequel  came  out  in  a  remark 
from  her  much-perplexed  mother : 

"I  never  saw  Dora  so  good  and  sweet-tempered  as  she  has  been 
for  a  week  past.  'Really,  I  thought  she  was  ill ;  but  she  rambled  on 
continually  to  herself,  her  dollies,  to  Jack,  of  weeds,  weeds,  weeds. 
Jack  seemed  to  understand ;  but  to  me  she  would  make  no  other  reply 
than,  'Oh,  it's  something — I  know.'  " 


t'- 


THE  BABYS  PAGE. 

Bare  feet  has  Baby  Dot,  for  the  day  is  long  and  hot, 
and  mama  lets  her  w/alk  around  with  bare  feet  on  t/ie 
cool,  soft  ground.  And  mama  says.  "Take  care,  my 
sweet,  don't  walk  where  stones  will  hurt  your  feet-" 
But  now^  the  time  is  long  past  noon,  and  Dot  must  have 
her  shoes  on  soon,  she  must  not  have  bare  feet  too  lata. 

August  in  the  months  counts  eight 

Father  in  Heaven,  through  long  days,  of  heat,  please 
always  guide  the  little  feet, 

L.  Luim  Greene  RtchmnJs. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  443 

THE  NASTURTIUM  SEEDS. 

BY  JEAN   K.  BAIRD. 

'*I  don't  like  it  a  bit,"  said  Rachel  Rohe,  entering  the  living-room 
and  throwing  down  her  books  on  the  table.  "I  don't  see  why  I  must 
stay  here  when  I  don't  like  it  one  bit." 

"I  do  not  like  it  myself  very  well/  said  Mrs.  Rohe.  "But  then 
you  and  I  must  not  forsake  your  father.  It  would  be  very  lonely  for 
him  if  we  should  pack  our  trunks  and  go  back  to  grandmother's.  I'll 
tell  you  a  secret,  little  daughter ;  I  do  not  like  this  dirty  mining  town 
any  better  than  you  do,  but  I  love  your  father  so  much  that  I  would 
not  make  him  miserable  by  telling  him.  I  shall  never  let  him  know  that 
I  do  not  like  it.  Then  too,  I  can  be  happy  where  my  little  girl  and 
her  father  are,  because  I  love  them  better  that  I  love  anyone  else." 

"Well,  of  course — "  Rachel  began  slowly  and  ended  abruptly. 
"Well,  of  course.  I  couldn't  be  very  happy  without  you  and  father, 
but  I  do  wish  that  my  father  was  something  else  than  a  mine  superin- 
tendent. I  wish  he  would  be  something  that  would  keep  him  in  a  nice 
clean  town." 

"But  he  isn't,  dear.  So  we  must  all  be  happy  together  here  in 
Bitumen.  We  must  think  what  a  nice  home  we  have,  and  be  glad 
that  we  can  always  be  together." 

"But,  mother,  you  can  stay  at  home  and  not  go  to  school.  This  is 
what  makes  it  very  hard.     The  school  is  simply  dreadful." 

"Isn't  Miss  Thurston  a  nice  teacher?" 

"Oh.  she  is  perfectly  lovely.  She  wears  the  nicest  shirt-waists, 
and  such  pretty  ties.  She  teaches  us  songs,  and  every  day  she  reads 
a  story  to  us.  I  like  her  as  well  as  any  teacher  I  have  ever  had.  But 
the  pupils  are  not  nice.  The  boys  are  so  rough,  and  the  girls  come  to 
school  as  dirty  as  girls  can  be.  Sometimes  they  do  not  even  have 
their  hair  combed.  They  do  not  use  nice  expressions  either,  mother. 
I  wish  I  did  not  have  to  go.     I'll  be  just  like  them." 

"I  wish  all  the  girls  and  boys  were  clean  and  good.  But  if 
they  are  not,  we  must  try  to  help  them.  We  must  keep  so  clean  and 
sweet  and  wholesome,  in  body  and  mind  and  soul,  that  they  will  try 
to  be  as  we  are." 

"I  never  could  help  them.     I — " 

"My  dear  little  girl,  no  one  ever  knows  how  much  she  can  do. 
The  greatest  influence  in  the  world  is  that  of  which  we  are  unconscious. 
Living  as  we  should,  everyone  about  us  is  better.  They  cannot  help  it. 
Did  you  ever  hear  the  story  of  the  nasturtium  seeds?" 

'No,  mother.    Is  it  a  real  story  or  a  made-up  one?" 

"Both.  The  story  itself  is  not  real,  but  the  truth  in  it  is  perfect 
truth.    This  is  it : 

"One  fall  day  a  little  old  lady  went  through  her  garden,  picking 
seeds  for  the  next  spring's  planting.    She  had  a  number  of  little  boxes. 


444  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

In  one  she  put  sweet-pea  seeds ;  in  another  the  seed  of  the  pansy,  and 
so  on.  The  nasturtiums  had  been  particularly  luxurant  that  summer 
and  the  vines  were  filled  with  seed-pods.  The  box  was  filled  to  over- 
flowing. The  lid  did  not  go  down  tight,  but  the  little  old  lady  did  not 
notice  that.  With  her  bundles  and  boxes  of  herbs  and  seeds  she 
started  to  walk  into  the  town,  for  it  was  only  in  summer  that  she  lived 
on  the  little  farm. 

"As  she  walked  along,  planning  how  she  would  have  her  flower- 
garden  when  summer  came  again,  the  nasturtium  pods  became  restless 
and  began  pushing  each  other  about.  'It's  too  crowded  in  here,'  said 
one.  'I  would  rather  have  stayed  at  home  than  to  travel  in  this  style. 
I  was  hoping  we  could  se^  a  little  of  the  world.  Perhaps  we  shall 
when  we  come  to  the  city.  I've  heard  that  they  have  fine  times  there, 
and  that  the  flowers  are  invited  to  all  the  fine  social  affairs.' 

"  *But  not  seeds!'  cried  one.  'Flowers  must  have  on  their  finest 
attire  if  they  attend  dinners.  I  heard  a  woman  say  that  faded  ones  were 
never  taken  any  place.'  'Well,  if  that  is  the  case,  I  think  I  shall  look  out 
for  myself,"  said  a  little  pod  which  was  being  wedged  tightly  in  one  cor- 
ner. 'I  have  never  had  a  desire  to  enter  society,  but  I  would  like  to  help 
in  civic  reforms,  and  philanthropy.  That  is  why  I  was  eager  to  leave 
the  garden.    The  city  offers  great  advantages  to  the  social  worker.' 

"Just  then  a  great  big  pod  pushed  forward.  'I  must  get  some  air. 
I  shall  stifle.'  The  little  pod  moved  away  to  give  her  room  and,  as 
luck  would  have  it,  lost  her  foothold  and  rolled  out  of  the  box,  and 
the  little  old  lady  never  noticed  it. 

"  'Oh,  this  is  dreadful !'  cried  the  pod.  'I  never  can  be  here  in 
the  middle  of  the  road.  I  shall  be  trampled  upon,  and  that  will  be  an 
end  of  me  and  my  fine  work.  I  must  hurry  from  this!'  The  poor 
little  thing  had  never  been  away  from  the  vine  before,  and  knew  no 
more  of  the  world  than  a  little  child.  Its  own  desire  was  to  move  on 
and  get  to  the  city  as  soon  as  possible.  It  rolled  as  fast  as  it  could 
across  a  stretch  of  green,  where  it  had  work  to  keep  from  entanglement 
and  then— oh,  horrible!  the  land  began  to  slope  downward,  and  the 
pod  found  itself  tumbling  head  over  heels  down  the  bank  leading  to 
the  river.  The  place  was  filled  with  stones ;  refuse  of  every  kind  had' 
been  dumped  there.  Suddenly  the  pod  stopped  in  its  wild  career. 
It  had  lodged  against  a  stone  and,  before  it  knew  what  had  happened, 
there  it  was  embedded  deep  in  the  soft  earth,  with  the  stone,  like  a 
great  wall,  impeding  its  progress.  The  fall  had  stunned  it.  For  a 
time  it  became  unconscious  of  all  about  it. 

"When  it  opened  its  eyes  again  snow  was  over  all  and  the  air 
was  bitterly  cold.  It  snuggled  close  under  the  protection  of  the  stone, 
and  was  thankful  that  it  had  such  a  fine  roof  over  its  head.  'Now  I 
shall  go  to  sleep  until  summer  comes  again.  One  cannot  travel  in 
such  bitter  weather.'  So  it  closed  its  eyes  and  slept  until  it  fek  the 
soft  April  rain  falling  upon  it.  Then  it  raised  its  head  and  looked  about 
it.    Then  it  shuddered.  Into  what  horrible  place  had  it  fallen?    Refuse 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  445 

of  all  sorts  covered  the  bank.  The  sight  was  offensive.  With  a  shud- 
der she  closed  her  eyes  again.  She  felt  that  her  finer  nature  would 
not  let  her  look  upon  such  a  sight. 

"For  a  while  she  lay  bewailing  her  lot.  She  had  been  ambitious 
to  do  good  in  the  world.  If  she  could  only  be  in  the  city  where 
she  could  bloom  out  in  civic  reform,  or  brighten  the  rooms  of  the  sick. 
It  grieved  her  to  think  her  life  would  be  wasted  here.  She  must 
have  lain  with  her  eyes  closed  for  a  longer  time  than  she  thought, 
for  when  she  opened  them  again  the  *jimson-weed'  had  sprung  up 
about  her.  It  is  a  coarse  plant,  and  so  offensive  is  it  that  it  has  re- 
ceived the  name  'stinkweed.' 

"The  nasturtium  pod  was  just  about  to  give  up  and  fall  back  and 
die.  She  felt  that  she  would  rather  be  dead  than  alive  among  such  en- 
vironment. But  then  a  change  took  place.  A  throbbing  little  seed 
within  the  pod  whispered:  *Let  us  do  the  best  we  can.  Our  place 
is  to  grow  and  produce  flowers.  Nature  never  appointed  any  special 
place.  We  are  here  and  without  any*  fault  of  our  own.  Let  us  make 
the  best  of  it.     Let  us  grow.' 

"  'Very  well,'  said  the  pod.  'You  seeds  are  the  ones  to  decide, 
ril  let  you  lose."  So  she  burst  open  and  let  them  roll  out. 

"It  did  not  take  long  for  them  to  find  a  nice  soft  place  for  a  bed, 
where  the  sun  would  shine  upon  them  and  where  the  spring  rains  would 
bathe  them.  Then  they  began  to  feel  strange  thrills  in  their  hearts. 
They  felt  that  they  must  move.  •  Then  a  litle  sprout  of  green  came 
from  their  hearts  and  crawled  over  the  rough  ground,  and  at  intervals 
it  spread  out  a  leaf  so  that  it  might  keep  cool  on  its  travels.  When 
it  came  to  the  jimson  weed  it  clung  to  it  and  went  climbing  to  the  very 
top.  Then  what  a  surprise  awaited  it!  The  view  from  this  height 
was  beautiful.  Then  it  called  to  the  others.  'Hurry,  little  sisters, 
and  climb  to  the  top  of  the  jimson.  You  can  see  the  river  on  one  side, 
the  green  fields  on  the  other.    There  are  daisies  everywhere.' 

"Then  there  was  a  scrambling  and  a  hurry.  Every  plant  grew 
as  fast  as  it  was  able.  Soon  every  weed  was  covered  with  the  fragrant 
vine ;  a  spicy  aromatic  odor  was  in  the  air. 

"In  September  a  gay  crowd  of  picnickers  came  along  the  river. 
'Come  here  and  see  how  beautiful  this  spot  is,'  said  one.  'The  nastur- 
tiums have  covered  the  whole  bank  and  there  is  a  mass  of  beautiful 
flowers.     It  is  like  a  picture.' 

"The  others  hurried  to  her  side.  'Is  it  not  wonderful!'  they  ex- 
claimed. 'Do  you  remember  last  spring  how  the  place  looked?  It  was 
then  but  an  offensive  rubbish  place.' 

"  'Do  you  think  of  that  now.  Remember  it  as  you  see  to-day.  The 
nasturtiums  haye  made  beautiful  what  had  been  offensive.  See  how 
their  leaves  are  moving  in  the  breeze!' 

"The  nasturtiums  were  quivering  with  delight,  but  the  woman  did 
not  know  it.  'This  was  the  place  nature  intended  us  to  be,"  they 
whispered.    'Our  work  was  here  instead  of  the  great  city.    We  have 


446  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

made  the  place  beautiful  everyone  who  passes  is  refreshed  and  made 
glad.'    And  the  nasturtiums  were  well  content." 

Rachel  listened  to  the  story  and  then  said :  "It  is  a  made-up  story 
and  yet  it  is  true.     I  suppose  Vm  to  be  a  nasturtium,  mother." 

"If  you  can  be,  little  girl." 


STRUGGLES. 

BY  VALESS  DEWEY. 

The  fire  in  the  grate  roared  and  crackled.  The  little,  old  fashioned 
stove  was  growing  red  under  its  tremendous  heat.  This  was  verj' 
pleasing  to  a  certain  little  boy  who  stood  by,  hat  in  hand,  rubbing 
his  ears  which  where  crimson  with  cold. 

There  was  a  second  person  in  the  room — sitting  in  the  big  rocker 
on  the  other  side  of  the  stove.  A  young  woman,  with  a  pleasant 
face  and  the  most  beautiful  eyes  in  the  world,  at  least,  this  is  what 
Tommy  thought  as  he  stood  there  by  the  stove  warming  his  half 
frozen  hands  and  ears. 

"Mamma,"  said  the  little  boy,  "don't  you  think  it  is  going  to  be 
awful  cold  tonight?" 

The  young  woman  arose  from  her  chair  and  came  over  to  Tom- 
my. "Fm  afraid  it  is,"  she  replied,  laying  her  hands  on  the  bo/s 
cold  face.    How  light  and  warm  that*  touch  seemed  to  Tommy ! 

"ril  go  get  an  extra  bucket  of  coal,"  he  said  manfully;  "guess 
we'll  need  it  tonight."  And  the  little  boy  put  on  his  hat  and,  bucket 
in  hand  disappeared  through  the  doorway. 

Mrs.  Woodruff  closed  the  door — which,  of  course  Tommy  had 
forgotten  to  do, — and  then  began  to  spread  the  evening  meal.  It  was 
a  simple  little  tete-a-tete,  but  then,  everything  was  of  that  nature  here- 
abouts. The  house  was  a  two-roomed  one,  modest  and  cozy,  but  large 
enough  for  its  two  occupants.  Mrs.  Woodruff  was  a  widow.  Her  only 
possessions  consisted  of  a  small  lot  upon  which  stood  her  cottage,  and 
her  litle  boy.  Tommy.  True,  she  had  a  wealthy  relative,  her  dead 
husband's  brother,  who  was  the  most  prosperous  merchant  in  the  city, 
but  there  were  numerous  reasons  why  she  could  not  accept  charity 
from  him. 

The  mother's  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  the  return  of 
Tommy  with  his  bucket  of  coal.  He  placed  his  load  under  the  reservoir 
and  then  looked  up.    "Anything  else,  mamma?"  he  enquired. 

"No,  dear."  The  mother  was  just  placing  the  last  dish  on  the 
table.    'Hurry  and  wash,"  she  said ;  "supper  is  already." 

And  Tommy  was  not  long  in  obeying.  He  possessed  the  appetite 
of  the  average  boy  at  nine  years  of  age.  A  large  bowl  of  bread  and 
milk  was  placed  before  him  and  after  the  mother  had  asked  a  short 
blessing,  the  meal  was  begun. 

"Do  you  know,  mamma,"   said   Tommy  between  mouthfuls,  "I 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  447 

believe  Uncle  Woodruff  is  getting  to  like  me  better  now.''  The  boy 
referred  to  the  great  merchant  whom  he  served  as  office-boy. 

Mrs.  Woodruff  looked  up  in  surprise.  "What  makes  you  think 
so,  Tommy?" 

"He  only  said  one  cross  word  to  me,  today." 

The  mother  smiled  and  then  her  face  became  instantly  serious, 
•*When  is  your  uncle  going  away?"  she  asked. 

To  the  East,  you  mean?"  enquired  Tommy. 

"Yes." 

The  boy  looked  at  his  mother  curiously.  '*In  a  few  days  maybe ;  I 
heard  Mr.  Ludolph  say  he  might  go  any  time  now."  Mr.  Ludolph  was 
the  manager  of  the  store. 

"I  though  so,"  said  Mrs.  Woodruff.  There  was  that  look  on  her 
face  which  the  boy  did  not  understand.  "Tommy,"  she  said  at 
length,  "whatever  happens,  be  honest/'  The  mother  arose  from  the 
table  to  put  some  coal  in  the  stove ;  and  Tommy,  having  also  finished 
his  supper,  began  to  clear  away  the  dishes.  He  insisted  on  doing  this 
part  of  the  work  alone,  so  that  his  mother  might  sew.  It  was  her 
means  of  obtaining  a  livelihood.  This,  with  the  small  wages  which 
Tommy  received  from  his  uncle,  constituted  their  income. 

Tommy  passed  the  evening  in  tryitig  to  read  and  write.  He  had 
never  been  to  school,  but  his  mother  had  taught  him  the  alphabet 
and  was  now  encouraging  him  to  continue  pn.  Tommy,  however,  did 
not  need  much  encouragement  to  study.  He  knew  that  he  was  be- 
hind most  boys  of  his  age  in  education  and  besides,  he  found  that  he 
needed  it  in  his  uncle's  office.  He  must  have  been  unusually  interested 
tonight,  for  before  he  could  imagine  it  possible  it  was  nine  o'clock  and 
his  mother  said  that  it  was  time  to  go  to  bed. 

"Why,  I  didn't  think  it  could  be  more  than  eight  o'clock,"  ex- 
claimed Tommy  in  surprise. 

Mrs.  Woodruff  smiled.  "And  so  you  like  your  studies,"  she  said, 
"I'm  so  glad." 

"Do  you  think  I  shall  ever  become  a  great  man  if  I  study  hard  ?" 
enquired  the  little  boy. 

"Yes,  dear ;  I  think  you  will,  but  you've  studied  enough  now. 
Come  and  kiss  me  good-night."  , 

And  somehow,  when  Tommy  had  kissed  his  mother  good-night 
and  was  tucked  in  his  little  bed,  the  words  of  his  mother  earlier  in  the 
evening  kept  coming  back  to  him.  'Tommy,"  he  could  almost  hear 
her  say,  "Whatever  happens,^^  honest/' 

Arthur  Woodruff,  the  great  merchant,  sat  at  his  office  desk  en- 
gaged in  writing.  Evidently,  he  was  agitated  about  something,  for  he 
cast  several  glances  toward  the  door  as  if  expecting  someone.  Twice 
in  the  short  space  of  three  minutes  he  took  out  his  watch,  only  to  re- 
place it  in  his  pocket  with  increased  anxiety.  It  lacked  just  seven 
minutes  of  five  o'clock. 


448  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

"Hang  it  all,"  hem  uttered  to  himself,  "why  don't  he  come,"  Then 
after  a  pause,  "Tommy,  come  here." 

The  door  opened  from  an  adjoining  room  and  our  hero  came  into 
the  office.    He  waited  for  his  uncle  to  speak. 

'Has  Ludolph  returned  yet?" 

"rU  go  see,  sir." 

Tommy  left  the  office  and  walked  down  the  full  length  of  the 
store.  Several  clerks  were  busy  behind  the  counters  and  one  or  two 
looked  at  him  enquiringly.  But  there  was  no  trace  of  Mr.  Ludolph, 
the  manager. 

Have  you  seen  Mr.  Ludolph,  lately?"  Tommy  asked  one  of  the 
clerks. 

"Not  since  he  went  out,"  was  the  reply. 

On  the  way  back  Tommy  met  a  tall,  dark  man,  who  had  just 
came  out  of  his  uncle's  private  office.  Our  hero  recognized  him  as 
the  new  book-keeper  who  was  to  take  charge  of  the  books  during  Mr. 
Woodruff's  absence.  He  had  a  pair  of  keen,  piercing  eyes,  and  rather  a 
distrustful  look,  Tommy  thought.  But  he  passed  by  without  so  much 
as  a  glance ;  at  least,  not  while  the  little  boy  was  looking. 

Tommy  found  his  uncle  with  his  overcoat  on,  ready  to  leave.  "The 
manager  hasn't  come  back  yet,"  he  said,  in  response  to  his  uncle's 
enquiry.  The  great  merchant  muttered  something  under  his  breath. 
"Well,  Tommy,'  he  said  aloud,  "I've  just  got  time  to  catch  my  train. 
Tell  Ludolph  when  he  comes  that  the  keys  to  my  private  desk  are  in 
the  first  drawer.  Don't  forget."  Mr.  Woodruff  hurried  out  to  the 
waiting  cab  and  was  driven  rapidly  away. 

After  his  uncle  left.  Tommy  went  into  the  room  adjoining  the 
office  where  he  had  some  straightening  up  to  do  for  the  night.  The 
winter  twilight  was  fast  approaching  and  the  room  was  getting  quite 
dark.  Tommy  hurried  to  get  through.  He  had  just  finished  his  work 
preparatory  to  going  home,  when  he  heard  footsteps  in  his  uncle's 
office.  Glancing  through  the  glass  door.  Tommy  saw  a  man  bending 
over  the  desk.  At  first  he  thought  it  was  Mr.  Ludolph ;  but  no,  the 
figure  was  too  tall  and  slender.  It  was  too  dark  to  see  the  man's  features 
but  Tommy  thought  he  saw,  in  the  form,  a  resemblance  to  the  new  book- 
keeper whom  he  had  passed  in  the  hallway.  A  suspicion  flashed  across 
Tommy's  mind.    His  uncle  zvas  being  robbed. 

To  say  that  Tommy  was  just  a  little  afraid  would  have  been  no 
more  than  the  truth.  It  certainly  was  a  trying  position.  But  his 
mother's  words  came  to  him  just  then  and,  come  what  may,  he  felt 
that  he  must  save  his  uncle  from  being  robbed.  Keeping  his  eyes  on 
the  robber,  Tommy  moved  toward  the  door.  The  noise  of  footsteps 
startled  the  man  and  he  jumped  to  his  feet.  But  Tommy  saw  hin 
put  something  that  looked  like  several  pieces  of  paper  in  his  pocket 

'Stop  there,  you,"  he  called,  as  he  saw  the  robber  hurrying  out 
of  the  office.  He  tried  to  open  the  door  but  it  was  locked.  What 
could  he  do? 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  449 

There  was  only  one  thing  to  do  and  Tommy  did  that  at  once. 
He  jumped  up  and  down  and  called  until  a  clerk,  in  alarm,  came  to 
see  what  was  the  matter. 

"My  uncle's  been  robbed,"  exclaimed  Tommy,  excidedly,  "and 
Tm  locked  in." 

But  the  robber  had  taken  the  keys  away  with  him  and  there  was 
nothing  to  do  but  wait  for  Mr.  Ludolph.  Fortunately,  that  was  not 
long.  He  came  before  Tommy  had  half  finished  his  story.  And  so 
the  boy  began  again  and  told  it  all  over;  taking  care  to  reveal  just 
what  he  thought  as  well  as  what  he  saw.  "Yes,  it  must  have  been 
our  new  bookkeeper,"  said  Mr.  Ludolph  when  Tommy  had  finished. 
'Tm  sorry  that  I  did  not  get  back  in  time  to  take  the  keys  from  Mr. 
Woodruff  before  he  left. 

But  there  was  no  time  to  lose.  A  description  of  the  man  was 
given  to  police  headquarters  and  every  precaution  was  taken  for  his 
capture.  Mr.- Ludolph  dismissed  the  clerks  and  closed  up  the  store. 
And  Tommy  hurried  home  to  tell  his  mother  the  strange  news. 

^p  ^p  ^F  ^F  ^p  ^F  ^^  ^F  ^F  ^F  ^F  ^F  ^F  ^F  ^F 

The  next  morning  Tommy  found  Mr.  Ludolph  alone  in  his  uncle's 
oflfice.  "Come  in  here,  my  boy,"  said  that  gentleman,  kindly,  "I  want 
to  speak  to  you."    Tommy  wondered  what  was  coming. 

"You  acted  splendidly  last  night,"  said  Mr.  Ludolph,  when  the 
boy  was  seated;  "I  hardly  know  what  we  could  have  done  but  for 
you.  At  any  rate,  the  problem  would  have  been  much  more  difficult. 
As  it  is,"  continued  Mr.  Ludolph,  "the  man  has  been  captured  and 
the  papers  recovered.  The  value  of  the  papers  is  such  that  had  they 
been  lost,  it  would  have  practically  ruined  your  uncle." 

Tommy  almost  gasped  for  breath.  Could  it  be  true  that  he  had 
done  so  much  ? 

"Now,"  went  on  Mr.  Ludolph,  "you  can  understand  something 
of  the  service  you  have  done  your  uncle.  The  manager  took  up  a 
paper  from  the  desk.  "I  received  a  telegram  from  Mr.  Woodruff  this 
morning,"  he  said,  "here  is  what  it  says. — 'I  can  hardly  express  my 
gratitude  to  you  arid  Tommy  for  what  you  have  done.  I  will  return 
at  once  to  look  after  my  interests,  and  to  reward  both  of  you  as  far  as 
it  IS  my  power  to  do  so." 

Tommy's  face  beamed  with  joy.  He  could  hardly  realize  it.  "May 
I  go  home  and  tell  mama  about  it,"  he  asked,  shyly;  "she  will  be 
so  glad." 

And  Mr.  Ludolph  gave  the  required  permission. 


"Learn  anything  new  at  school.  Tommy?" 
"Yes  grandpa.    Teacher  told  us  that  shoes  are  made  from  all  kinds 
of  skins." 

"What  about  banana  skins?" 
"Oh,  they  often  make  slippers." 


450  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

JOHNNY'S  RFClTATION. 

A  seven-year-old  orator  made  his  debut  in  front  of  a  large  audi- 
ence at  a  west  side  club-house  the  other  night.  His  deluded  but 
loving  family  who  had  egged  him  on  to  this  sacrifice  were  mostly  with 
him  in  the  dressing  room ;  they  wanted  to  be  sure  that  his  bangs 
did  not  fall  over  his  eyes  and  obstruct  the  view  of  his  mother,  father, 
aunts,  uncles  and  cousins  in  reserved  seats  directly  in  front. 

"Now,  Johnny,"  said  his  mother,  "be  sure  you  make  a  nice  bow/' 

"You  bet  I  will,'  said  Johnny,  with  a  swagger. 

"And  let  your  hands  fall  easily  by  your  side,  like  this,"  and  his 
father  struck  an  attitude. 

"Of  course,"  said  Johnny. 

*'Are  you  sure  you  know  your  piece?"  asked  his  sister. 

"Yep,"  said  Johnny  and  he  recited  the  first  two  lines: 

I   wish    I   had  a   little   dog, 
To  pat  him  on  the  head. 

"That's  right,  he'll  do  splendidly,"  remarked  his  mother.  "You'll 
go  in  a  minute  now,  and  we  must  get  into  our  seats.  Don't  you  be 
scared  a  bit,  Johnny." 

"Whoth  thcared?"  asked  Johnny,  who  began  to  leel  a  sinking 
of  the  knees,  while  his  heart  began  to  rise  until  it  was  in  his  mouth, 
and  then  somebody  was  pushing  him  forward,  and  he  saw  a  lot  of 
faces,  not  one  of  which  he  had  ever  seen  before,  and  it  was  lighter 
than  any  electric  searchlight  he  had  ever  seen.  "Speak  up  now,"  said 
the  manager.    "Make  your  bow  and  say  your  piece. " 

Johnny  made  his  bow  and  the  audience  applauded,  but  he  had 
difficulty  in  finding  his  tongue.  His  hands  hung  down  as  his  father 
had  suggested,  making  him  look  like  a  little  wooden  man,  and  when 
he  forgot  and  stuffed  them  into  his  pockets  the  audience  applauded 
again.     The  manager  took  that  opportunity  for  a  stage  whisper: 

"Speak  up,  now,"  and  he  began  th^  first  line.  Then  Johnny  said 
in  a  strange,  hoarse  voice : 

I  wish  I  had  a  little  pat, 
To  dog  him  on  the  head. 

Roars  of  laughter.  Frantic  demonstrations  on  the  part  of  Johnny's 
family.     He  began  again. 

I  wish  I  had  a  little  pat, 
To  head  him  on  the  dog. 

His  father  rose  in  his  seat;  that  added  to  Johnny's  confusion. 
Again  the  brave  boy  essayed : 

I  wish  I  had  a  little  dog. 
To  head  him  on  the  pat, 

Then  a  weary  family  took  Johnny  by  the  hand  and  led  him 
h#me. — Detroit  News-Tribune. 


JUST  FOR  FUN. 

A  small  boy  in  the  juvenile  grammar  class, 
being  asked  to  compare  the  adjective  "little," 
answered:     "Little,  small,  nothing  at  all." 

"Tommy."  queried  his  father,  "how  do 
you  stand  in  school  these  days  ?" 

"In  the  corner  most  of  the  time,"  replied 
truthful  Tommy. 

Gabe.     "What  is  an  optimist?" 

Steve.  "An  optimist  is  a  cross-eyed  man 
who  is  thankful  that  he  isn't  bow-legged." 

She  (on  the  Atlantic  liner.)  "Did  you  observe  the  great  appetite 
of  that  man  at  dinner?" 

He.     "Yes;  he  must  be  what  they  call  a  stowaway." 

Uncle  John.  "Willie  if  you  could  have  your  way,  who  would 
you  rather  be  than  anybody  else?" 

Small  Willie.  "Just  nie — if  I  could  always  have  my  way." 

Parents  and  children  often  differ  in  their  views  concerning  the 
uses  to  which  various  articles  should  be  put.     As  thus: 

Mother  (at  breakfast.)  "You  ought  always  to  use  your  napkm 
at  the  table,  Geor_ge." 

George.  "I  am  using  it;  mother.  I  have  got  the  dog  tied  to 
the  leg  of  the  table  with  it." 

Edgar,  aged  four,  came  running  into  the  house  one  day  with  a 
long  scratch  on  his  hand.  "Why,  Edgar,  how  did  that  happen?"  asked 
his  mother. 

"It  didn't  happen,"  replied  Edgar.     "The  old  cat  done  it." 

That's  a  terrible  noise  in  the  nursery,  Mollie,"  said  her  mistress. 
"What  is  the  matter?    Can't  you  keep  the  baby  quiet?" 

"Sure,  mum,"  replied  Mollie,  "I  can't  keep  him  quiet  unless  I  let 
him  make  a  noise," — Lippincott's. 

Mother.     'What's  the  matter,  Willie?" 

Willie.     "Boo-boo-oo!    Yesterday  I  fell  down  an'  hurt  myself." 

Mother.     "Well,  what  are  you  crying  today  for?" 

Willie.     "You   weren't  home  yesterday." 


Louie  B,  Felt  President. 
May  Anderson,  First  Counselor.    Clar.^  N.  Beebe,  Second  Counselor. 


OFFICERS'  DEPARTMENT 

00 


THE  PRIMARY  TEACHERS  CLASS. 

The  Primary  Teachers  Class  of  1913  has  passed  into  history, 
leaving  in  its  wake  a  trail  of  tender  memories,  and  carrying  with  it  the 
best  wishes  of  a  host  of  admiring  friends.  The  Class  has  reason  to  be 
pround  of  its  success  and  each  stake  to  congratulate  itself  on  its  choice 
of  representatives. 

The  inauguration  of  the  course  just  completed  was  not  the  result 
of  hasty  speculation,  but  of  serious  reflection  on  the  part  of  President 
Felt  and  her  fellow  workers.  The  welfare  of  the  Primary  organiza- 
tion, its  growth,  its  development,  its  future,  is  the  constant  care  of 
the  sisters  comprising  the  General  Board.  How  to  place  in  the  hands 
of  our  workers  the  most  effective  means  of  promulgating  the  Church 
doctrines  among  the  boys  and  g^rls  of  Zion,  how  to  smooth  the  path 
of  the  small  army  of  teachers — ^many  of  them  hard-working  mothers 
of  large  families — and  employ  the  best  methods  of  broadeniilg,  develop- 
ing, and  enriching  our  outline  work,  has  been  a  much  mooted  ques- 
tion, and  one  difficult  to  solve.  When,  after  much  discussion  it  was 
finally  decided  to  send  out  a  call  for  at  least  one  representative  from 
each  Stake,  to  take  a  six  weeks  course  of  instruction  at  Salt  Lake 
City,  the  Board  awaited  with  eagerness  the  response  to  that  request, 
for  we  realized  that  it  meant  much  to  our  cause. 

Well,  they  "came,"  they  "saw,"  they  "conquered,"  and  a  more 
valiant  crew  of  workers  never  trod  the  deck  of  the  ship  "Courage ;"  for 
it  took  spirit,  loyalty,  and  a  strong  sense  of  duty  to  enable  many  of  the 
visiting  sisters  to  leave  their  homes  and  families  for  so  long  a  period, 
and  devote  themselves  with  such  tireless  energy  to  the  strenuous  tasks 
before  them. 

That  they  were  indeed  strenuous,  none  will  deny — strenuous  for 
teachers,  for  class  members,  and  for  the  office  force.  No  one  had  an 
idle  moment,  for  when  she  was  not  in  class,  or  studying,  or  taking 
notes,  or  asking  and  answeriAg  questions,  she  was  being  royally  enter- 
tained by  Counselor  Clara  W.  Beebe,  our  committee  of  one  on  amuse- 
ments ;  for  it  was  not  all  hard  work — there  was  plenty  of  fun  mixed  in. 
The  part  played  by  Sister  Beebe  in  keeping  up  the  spirits  of  the  class 
cannot  be  overestimated. 

At  the  head  of  the  whole  enterprise,  ever  smiling,  indefatigable  in 
her  efforts  to  help — mother,  comforter  and  guide,  stood  our  beloved 
and  honored  President.  Early  and  late  she  was  always  at  her  post,  and 
into  the  souls  of  those  who  watched  was  borne  the  conviction  that  God 
must  be  near  her,  or  she  never  could  endure  the  nerve-racking  strain 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  455 

resulting  from  the  scores  of  pleas  for  assistance  and  counsel  that  came 
to  her  every  day. 

At  her  side,  as  usual,  with  characteristic  energy  and  tireless  sup- 
port, stood  Counselor  May  Anderson,  managing  the  business  end  of 
affairs,  solving  transportation  diificulties,  furnishing  supplies,  ordering 
the  books  needed,  and  attending  to  numberless  other  matters  coming 
up  in  addition  to  the  ordinary  routine.  She,  too,  was  marvelously 
blessed  and  given  the  strength  that  meant  so  much  to  the  success  of  the 
undertaking. 

We  began,  the  first  day,  with  a  prayer  to  our  Heavenly  Father,  that 
all  might  go  well  with  those  who  had  assembled  in  behalf  of  the  cause ; 
that  each  would  remember  her  duty  to  herself,  to  her  God,  and  to  her 
stake,  and  so  conduct  herself  that  no  reproach  would  fall  upon  the  class 
during  the  weeks  we  were  to  mingle  together.  Instructions  were  given 
regarding  class  rules  and  regulations,  and  members  were  invited  to 
make  the  Board  rooms  their  resting  place,  where  there  were  plenty 
of  good  books  to  be  read,  and  other  comforts  obtainable.  "Aunt  Zina," 
our  matron,  had  arranged  for  comfortable  quarters  where  all  who  ap- 
plied might  be  well  taken  care  of,  and  there  were  many  who  went  to 
her  for  counsel. 

No  word  of  complaint,  in  any  shape  whatever,  has  reached  our 
ears  from  any  source,  and  all  honor  should  be  given  to  the  class  that 
deported  itself  with  such  credit. 

The  aim  of  the  instructor  in  each  of  the  six  departments  was  to 
make  the  course  as  practical,  as  extensive,  and  as  broadening  from  the 
Primary  teacher's  point  of  view  as  was  possible  in  the  limited  time  at 
our  disposal.  Lectures  were  given  by  prominent  educators  of  wide 
and  varied  experience  in  order  that  our  workers  might  have  the  benefit 
of  thoughts  and  conclusions  reached  by  men  and  women  who  are  de- 
voting their  lives  to  seeking  out  the  best  methods  of  teaching  children. 

Outlines  were  furnished  in  each  department  to  assist  the  workers 
in  taking  notes,  and  hope  is  entertained  that  with  the  help  these  out- 
lines give,  a  concise  resume  of  the  entire  course  will  be  possible  with 
each  member. 

As  the  course  neared  completion  some  of  the  workers,  despite  new 
aspirations  cultivated,  and  the  energy,  enthusiasm  and  patience  mani- 
fested, began  to  show  feelings  of  anxiety  and  concern,  lest  they  might 
not  be  able  to  re-render  the  instructions  received  by  them  in  class,  after 
their  return  to  their  respective  stakes.  Such  questions  as:  "What 
method  shall  we  use  in  giving  these  instructions  in  the  stakes?"  were 
continually  being  asked.  The  General  Board,  in  reply,  offered  the  fol- 
lowing suggestions:  Each  representative  to  the  Primary  Teachers* 
Course,  whether  stake  or  local,  should  consult  first  with  her  Primary 
stake  president,  give  a  brief  resume  of  the  work  covered  during  the  six 
weeks*  period,  review  the  outlines  with  the  stake  board,  and  request  that 
individuals  be  appointed  from  that  Board  to  specialize  in  each  of  the 
six  departments  of  study;  all  instruction  to  be  given  out  according  to 


Edith  Hunter. 
Margaret  H.  Eastmond.  Laura  Foster. 

Ann  Nebekeh. 
Frances  Thomassen  Emma  R.  Morris. 

THE  TEACHERS. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


457 


the  discretion  and  under  the  direction  of  the  Primary  stake  president. 

For  want  of  space  we  must  omit  many  interesting  details,  but  one 
climacteric  incident,  indelibly  imaged  in  memory,  should  be  mentioned. 
In  future  years,  as  we  look  back  upon  that  Saturday  afternoon,  June  7, 
1913,  we  shall  see  again  the  group  of  kindly  faces  endeavoring  earnestly 
and  lovingly  to  stretch  the  rainbow  across  a  mist  of  tears. 

It  was  Sister  Felt  who  began  it.  We  had  been  asked — we  of  the 
General  Board — ^to  meet  the  class  in  the  reception  room,  immediately  at 
the  close  of  the  afternoon  meeting.  We  went,  not  knowing  what  to 
expect,  and  when  we  were  showered  with  flowers,  and  presented  with 
that  beautiful  picture,  "A  Little  Child  Shall  Lead  Them,"  so  fitting  and 
appropriate  an  adornment  for  our  walls ;  when  our  efforts  to  make  the 
class  a  success  were  so  tenderly  and  appreciatively  recognized  in  words 
of  noblest  gratitude ;  when  our  president,  requested  to  speak,  endeavored 
to  comply — ^tried  and  tried  again,  and  finally  sobbed  out  her  affectionate 
response,  then — well,  we  all  cried  together. — F.  K.  T. 

A  SANITARY  DRINKING  CUP. 

How  to  Make.  Take  a  piece  of  white  writing  paper  six  inches 
square.  First,  fold  the  square  diagonally  through  the  middle ;  then  fold 
one  of  the  lower  comers  or  angles  c  so  that  it  will  touch  the  line  a  b 
about  the  middle,  as  shown  in  the  first  figure.     Next  fold  point  a  upon 


d,  as  in  the  second  figure.  Lastly,  fold  b  outward,  making  a  crease 
along  the  line  c  o  d,  and  fold  the  point  b'  over  the  other  side  in  the  same 
way.  Open  up  along  this  double  fold,  and  you  have  the  completed  cup 
as  shown. 


THE  TALKING  FACE. 

"I  didn't  say  a  single  word,"  said  Annie  Barton  to  her  mother,  who 
was  reproving  her  for  her  temper. 

"I  know  you  didn't,  Annie ;  but  your  face  talked." 

What  volumes  your  faces  say !  Some  speak  of  love  and  kindness, 
some  of  anger  and  hatred,  and  others  still  of  selfishness. 

We  can't  help  our  faces  talking ;  but  we  can  make  them  say  pleas- 
ant things,  and  all  should  try  to  have  them  do  so. — Selected. 


LESSON  DEPARTMENT 


SuOject  for  tbc  /Dontb:    XTempet. 

The  Lesson  Hour. 

LESSON  THIRTY-THREE. 

SUGGESTIONS   FOR   ALL  THE   TEACHERS. 

Chapter  eight  in  Character  by  Smiles  will  help  us  to  understand 
the  value  of  temper,  good  temper.  In  the  preparation  meeting  discuss 
the  meaning  of  tempers,  good  and  bad;  if  possible  have  some  of  the 
teachers  prepare  a  talk  on  the  subject,  then  a  general  discussion  in 
which  all  take  part ;  give  personal  experiences  of  the  giving  way  to 
ill  temper  and  the  results  of  overcoming  the  feeling  of  anger. 

If  possible,  read  chapters  6  and  8  in  Every  Day  Living  by  Annie 
Payson  Call ;  or  talks  on  Temper  by  others,  writers,  or  teachers. 

FIRST  GRADE. 

Text :     Character  by  Smiles,  chapter  8. 

Bible:  Some  incident  showing  the  patience  and  kindness  of  the 
Savior. 

Other  Materials. 
Memory  Gem. 
Games. 
Songs. 
Pictures. 
Rest  Exercises. 

Aim. 

The  overcoming  of  tendencies  to  anger,  resentment,  discontent  and 
faultfinding  is  the  duty  of  all  and  gives  the  greatest  return  in  happiness, 
contentment,  and  blessings  of  the  Lord. 

Illustration. 

**Jimmie  at  Home."  The  Chii.drex's  Friend,  or  "New  Year's 
at  Buddie's  House,"  in  the  same  volume,  page  7. 

Sugi^cstimis  for  the  Teacher.  Review  the  lesson  on  truthfulness 
and  lead  the  children  to  understand  how  unhappy  people  feel  when  they 
do  wrong  things.    Have  some  pictures  which  illustrate  happy  children. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  459 

talk  about  them,  finding  out  why  they  are  happy  and  suggest  things 
which  little  children  may  do  to  keep  happy  themselves  and  help  to 
make  others  happy  too.  Use  some  incident  from  the  life  of  the  Savior 
which  shows  His  constant  desire  to  make  people  happy.  You  might 
mention  very  briefly  how  much  misery  comes  to  a  little  boy  or  girl 
who  lets  bad  temper  come  into  its  heart ;  •  describe  how  ugly  it 
looks  and  acts. 

The  supplementary  stories  will  help  to  impress  the  truth.  If  pos- 
sible use  a  hand  mirror  with  the  poem. 

IN  THE  LOOKING-GLASS. 

This  world  is  like  a  looking-glass, 

And  if  you  want  to  see 
People  frown  at  you*  as  you  pass, 

And  use  you  slightingly ; 
If  you  want  quarrels,  snubs,  and  foes, 

Put  on  a  fretful  face ; 
Scowl  at  the  world — you'll  find  it  shows 

The  very  same  grimace. 

The  world  is  like  a  looking-glass, 

And  if  you  wish  to  be 
On  pleasant  terms  with  all  who  pass 

Smile  on  them  pleasantly; 
Be  helpful,  generous  and  true. 

And  very  soon  you'll  find 
Each  face  reflected  back  to  you 

An   image  bright  and  kind. 

— Priscilla  Lconanl. 


Memory  Gem: 


ril  be  a  little  sunbeam  true, 

A  tiny  ray  of  light, 
And  try  in  all  I  say  or  do 

To  make  the  world  more  bright.      — Selected 

SECOND  GRADE. 


Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text:     Character  by  Smiles,  chapter  8. 
Bible:     Incident  from  life  of  the  Savior. 

Other  Materials, 
•    Memory  Gem. 
Games. 
Songs, 
pictures. 
Rest  Exercises. 


460  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Aim. 

The  overcoming  of  tendencies  to  anger,  resentment,  discontent 
and  fault-finding  is  the  duty  of  all  and  gives  the  greatest  return  in 
happiness,  contentment  and  the  blessings  of  the  Lord. 

Illustration. 

"Runaway  Ralph"  The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  5,  page  92,  or, 
"Alfred's  Prayer,"  The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  5,  page  239. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  Review  the  lesson  on  truth,  help 
the  children  to  see  the  value  of  telling  the  truth.  Notice  the  value 
of  self-control  and  how  much  more  one  is  liable  to  tell  an  untruth  if 
anger  is  permitted  to  enter  into  the  heart.  Encourage  the  children  to 
tell  how  unhappy  they  feel  if  bad  temper  comes  to  them,  then  help 
them  to  know  how  to  control  it.  Use  some  incident  from  the  life 
of  the  Savior  which  illustrates  His  gseat  patience  and  good  temper. 
The  stories,  poem,  and  memory  gem  will  help  to  impress  the  value 
of  good  temper. 

Memory  Gem. 

With  sunshine  bright  and  music  sweet  begin  each  day  anew ; 
For  nothing  half  so  dear  is  found,  in  garden,  field,  or  wood. 
As  the  precious  litle  boy  or  girl,  who's  trying  to  be  good. 

— Clara  Louise  Burnham. 
Poem: 

DO  SOMETHING  FOR  SOMEBODY  QUICK. 

"Are  you  almost  disgusted  with  life,  little  man? 

ril  tell  you  a  wonderful  trick 
That  will  brink  you  contentment,  if  anything  can. 

Do  something  for  somebody,  quick. 

"Are  you  awfully  tired  with  play,  little  girl? 

Weary,  discouraged  and  sick  ? 
ril  tell  you  the  loveliest  game  in  the  world. 

Do  something  for  somebody,  quick. 

"Though  it  rains  like  the  rains  of  the  flood,  little  man, 

And  clouds  are  forbidding  and  thick, 
You  can  make  the  sun  shine  in  your  soul,  little  man. 

Do  something  for  somebody,  quick. 

"Though  the  stars  are  as  brass  overhead,  little  girl. 

And  the  walks  like  a  well-heated  brick. 
And  our  earthly  aflfairs  in  a  terrible  whirl. 

Do  something  for  somebody,  quick." 

— Selected. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  461 


THIRD  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text :     Character  by  Smiles,  chapter  8. 
Bible:    The  Prodigal  Son. 

Other  Materials. 

Memory  Gem. 
Poem. 
Songs. 
Pictures. 

Aim. 

The  overcoming  of  tendencies  to  anger,  resentment,  discontent- 
ment, and  fault-finding  is  the  duty  of  all  and  gives  the  greatest  return 
in  happiness,  contentment  and  the  blessings  of  the  Lord. 

Illustration. 

"Elinor's  Wolf-Skin  Rug."  The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  5, 
page  81 ;  or  "The  Discontented  Pumpkin"  in  the  same  volume  page  370. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  Use  the  material  given  for  the  les- 
son on  truthfulness  and  help  the  children  to  understand  how  much 
more  danger  there  is  to  do  wrong  if  anger  fills  the  heart.  Review  the 
story  of  the  prodigal  son.  Let  the  children  tell  how  the  giving  way 
to  fault-finding,  resentment  and  anger  brought  the  young  man  to  the 
place  where  he  was  foolish  enough  to  run  away  from  home.  Notice 
how  he  was  punished  and  then  show  the  value  of  the  patience  and 
kindness  shown  by  the  father;  if  he  had  been  like  his  son  and  been 
cross  and  ang^y  and  said  unkind  things  to  his  boy,  maybe  the  boy  would 
never  have  come  back.  Impress  the  memory  gem  as  you  relate  this  story. 

Memory  Gem. 

Is  there  a  cross  word  that  tries  to  be  said? 

Don't  let  it,  my  dear,  don't  let  it ! 
Just  speak  pleasant  ones,  quick,  instead, 

And  that  will  make  you  forget  it. 


— Selected. 


Poem: 


"WHO  WILL  JOIN." 

We've  formed  a  new  society — 
The  order  of  the  Smiling  Face, 

An  honored  member  you  may  be. 
For  every  one  may  have  a  place. 


462  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

The  rules  say  you  must  never  let 
The  comers  of  your  mouth  drop  down, 

For  by  this  method  you  may  get 
The  habit  of  a  sulky  frown. 

If  playmates  tease  you,  let  your  eyes 

A  brave  and  merry  twinkle  show. 
For  if,  the  angry  tears  arise 

They're  very  apt  to  overflow. 

If  you  must  practice  for  an  hour, 

And  if  it  seems  a  long,  long  while. 
Remember  not  to  pout  and  glower 

But  wear  a  bright  and  cheerful  smile. 

The  rules  are  simple,  as  you  see. 

Make  up  your  mind  to  join  to-day. 
Put  on  a  smile — and  you  will  be 

An  active  member  right  away. 

— Selected. 

FOURTH  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text:     Character  by  Smiles,  chapter  8. 
Bible:     Story  of  Job. 

Other  Materials. 
Questions. 
Memory  Gem. 
Poem. 
Recitation. 
Reading. 
Quotations. 

Aim. 

The  overcoming  of  tendencies  to 'anger,  resentment,  discontent  and 
faultfinding  is  the  duty  of  all  and  gives  the  greatest  return  in  happiness, 
contentment  and  the  blessings  of  the  Lord. 

Illustration. 

"The  Education  of  Bones."  The  Children's  Friend,  vol,  5, 
page  88. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher,  Review  briefly  the  thoughts  given 
on  the  value  of  truth.  Give  some  of  Mr.  Smiles,  ideas  about  anger 
and  help  the  children  to  appreciate  the  worth  of  a  good  temper.  A 
brief  recital  of  the  trials  of  Job  will  help  to  illustrate  this  point.     The 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  463 

readings,  etc.,  will  also  help.  The  teacher  should  impress  the  fact  that 
in  all  efforts  to  overcome  weakness  the  children  of  the  Latter-day 
Saints  must  never  forget  to  call  upon  the  Lord  for  His  assistance. 

Questions. 

What  is  temper? 

What  is  the  difference  between  bad  temper  and  good  temper  ? 

What  is  the  use  of  getting  angry? 

What  are  some  things  that  make  one  angry? 

Does  it  make  things  any  better  to  get  angry? 

Could  we  not  get  the  same  results  without  being  angry  ? 

How  do  people  look  when  they  are  angry? 

Metnor\  Gem, 

"He  that  brings  sunshine  into  the  lives  of  others  cannot  keep  it 
from  himself." 

Poem.  SHALL  I— 

Grumble? — No ;  what's  the  good? 

If  it  availed,  I  would;  ^ 

But  it  doesn't  a  bit; 

Not  it. 

Laugh  ? — Yes  :  why  not  ? 

Tis  better  than  crying,  a  lot : 
We  were  made  to  be  glad. 

Not  sad. 

Sing? — Why,  yes,  to  be  sure; 

We  shall  better  endure 
If  the  heart's  full  of  song 
All  day  long. 

— Selected. 
To    be  memorized  and  recited. 

"Only  a  fit  of  ill  temper!"  We  might  just  as  well  say,  "Only 
a  box  of  dynamite !"  or,  "only  a  bottle  of  poison."  Ill  temper  wrecks 
and  poisons  more  lives,  young  and  old,  than  dynamite  or  prussic  acid 
ever  will  destroy. — Selected. 

Reading.     OIL  YOURSELF  A  LITTLE. 

Once  upon  a  time  there  lived  an  old  gentleman  in  a  large  house. 
He  had  servants,  and  much  riches,  yet  he  was  not  very  happy;  and 
^vhen  things  did  not  go  as  he  wished,  he  was  very  cross.  At  last  his  ser- 
vantsr  left  him.  Quite  out  of  temper,  he  went  to  a  neighbor  with  a  story 
of  his  distresses. 


464  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


"It  seems  to  me,"  said  the  neighbor,  sagaciously,  "'twould  be  well 
for  you  to  oil  yourself  a  little." 

"To  oil  myself?" 

"Yes;  I  will  explain.  Some  time  ago  one  of  the  doors  of  my 
house  creaked.  Nobody,  therefore,  liked  to  go  in  or  out  by  it.  One 
•day  I  oiled  its  hinges,  and  it  has  been  constantly  used  by  everybody 


ever  smce." 


"Then  you  think  I  am  like  the  creaking  door  ?"  cried  the  old  gentle- 
man. "How  do  you  want  me  to  oil  myself?" 

"That  is  an  easy  matter,"  said  the  neighbor.  "Go  home  and 
engage  a  servant,  and  when  he  does  right  praise  him.  If  on  the 
contrary,  he  does  something  amiss,  do  not  be  cross ;  oil  your  voice  and 
words  with  the  oil  of  love." 

The  old  gentleman  went  home,  and  no  harsh  or  ugly  words  were 
ever  in  the  house  afterwards.  Every  family  should  have  a  bottle  of 
this  precious  oil;  for  the  family  is  liable  to  have  a  creaking  hinge 
in  the  shape  of  a  fretful  disposition,  a  cross  temper,  a  harsh  tone,  or  a 
fault-finding  spirit. — Selected, 

Quotations. 

Proverbs   16:32;  22;  24-26;   Ephesians  4:26;  James  I:  19-20. 

FIFTH  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text:    Character  by  Smiles,  chapter  8.. 
Bible :     Cleansing  of  the  Temple. 

Other  Materials. 
Questions. 
Memory  Gem. 
Poem. 
Reading. 
Recitation. 
Quotations. 

Aim. 

The  overcoming  of  tendencies  to  anger,  resentment,  discontent,  and 
fault-finding  is  the  duty  of  all  and  gives  the  greatest  return  in  happi- 
ness, contentment  and  the  blessings  of  the  Lord. 

lUust  ration. 

"Desk  Mates."    The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  5,  page  210. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  Smiles  will  give  you  the  best  kind 
of  suggestion  about  the  use  and  value  of  good-temper,  use  as  much 
as  you  can  from  chapter  8.  In  reviewing  show  the  close  relationship 
which  exists  between  self-control  and  temper  and  how  much  easier 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  465 

it  is  for  one  to  do  wrong  under  the  influence  of  bad-temper.  There 
are  times  when  it  is  right  for  one  to  use  force,  the  incident  of  the 
cleansing  of  the  Temple  will  illustrate  this  point,  but  one  must  be  very 
sure  that  they  are  justified  before  attempting  to  set  another  person  in 
order.  Temper  is  like  all  the  other  emotions  given  to  us,  of  g^eat  value 
when  we  know  how  to  use  it. 

The  materials  given  with  this  lesson  will  give  the  children  a  good 
view  point  of  good  and  bad  temper.  Be  sure  to  impress  the  children  with 
the  thought  of  the  necessity  of  always  appealing  to  the  Father  in  Heav- 
en for  help  in  fighting  the  evil  and  encouraging  the  good. 

Questions. 

What  is  an  emotion? 
Name  some  of  the  emotions? 
What  are  their  value? 
What  is  a  good  emotion?  A  bad? 

What  do  we  mean  by  saying  that  we  give  way  to  bad  temper  ? 
What  are  some  results  of  bad  temper? 
What  are  some  results  of  good  temper? 

Memory  Gem. 

"Ill-temper  is  a  weed  that  grows  rankly  in  many  young  hearts. 
Its  root  is  not  high  spirit,  as  many  boys  and  girls  think,  but  just 
plain,  ugly  selfishness.  If  the  root  is  once  plucked  out  and  looked  at, 
the  young  gardner  will  be  ashamed  to  have  a  root  or  a  weed  in 
the  heart  henceforth." 

• 

To  be  memorized  and  recited,    HOLD  ON. 

Hold  on  to  your  hand  when  you  are  about  to  do  an  unkind  act. 
Hold  on  to  your  tongue  when  you  are  just  ready  to  speak  harshly. 
Hold  on  to  your  heart  when  evil  persons  invite  you  to  join  their  ranks. 
Hold  on  to  your  foot  when  on  the  point  of  going  in  the  wrong  path. 
Hold  on  to  the  truth,  for  it  will  serve  you  well,  and  do  you  good 
throughout  life.  Hold  on  to  your  temper  when  you  are  excited  or 
angry,  or  others  are  angry  with  you. 

Reading.     WHAT  TO  DO  WITH  A  BAD  TEMPER. 

Starve  it.  Give  it  nothing  to  feed  on.  When  something  tempts 
you  to  grow  angry,  do  not  yield  to  the  temptation.  It  may  for  a  minute 
or  two  be  difficult  to  control  yourself;  but  try  it.  Force  yourself 
to  do  nothing,  to  say  nothing,  and  the  rising  temper  will  be  obliged  to 
go  down  because  it  has  nothing  to  hold  it  up.  The  person  who  can 
and  does  control  tongue,  hand,  heart,  in  the  face  of  great  provocation, 
is  a  hero.    The  world  may  not  hold  him  or  her  as  such ;  but  God  does. 


466  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

The  Bible  says  that  he  that  riileth  his  spirit  is  better  than  he  that 
taketh  a  city. 

What  is  gained  by  yielding  to  temper?  For  a  moment  there  is  a 
feeling  of  relief ;  but  soon  comes  a  sense  of  sorrow  and  shame,  with  a 
wish  that  temper  had  been  controlled.  Friends  are  separated  by  a  bad 
temper,  trouble  is  caused  by  it,  and  the  pain  is  given  to  others  as  well  as 
self.  That  pain,  too,  often  lasts  for  days,  even  years — ^sometimes, 
for  life.  An  outburst  of  temper  is  like  the  bursting  of  a  steam  boiler; 
it  is  impossible  to  tell  beforehand  what  will  be  the  result.  The  evil  done 
may  never  be  remedied.  Starve  your  temper.  It  is  not  worth  keeping 
alive.    Let  it  die. 


Poem:  THE  BARBAROUS  CHIEF. 

Eli^  Wheeler  Wilcox 

There  was  a  kingdom  known  as  the  mind, 

A  kingdom  vast,  and  fair, 
And  the  brave  King  Brain  had  the  right  to  reign 

In  royal  splendor  there. 
Oh!  that  was  a  beautiful,  beautiful  land 

Which  unto  this  king  was  given ; 
It  was  filled  with  everything  good  and  grand, 

And  it  reached  from  earth  to  heaven. 

But  a  savage  monster  came  one  day, 

From  over  a  distant  border ; 
He  made  war  on  the  king  and  usurped  his  sway. 

And  set  everything  in  disorder. 
He  mounted  the  throne,  which  he  made  his  own. 

And  the  kingdom  was  sunk  in  grief. 
There  was  sorrow  and  shame  from  the  hour  he  came- 

111  Temper,  the'barbarous  chief. 

Then  bent  on  more  havoc,  away  he  rushed, 

To  the  neighboring  kingdom  of  Heart, 
And  the  blossoms  of  kindness  and  hope  he  crushed. 

And  patience  was  made  to  depart. 
And  he  even  went  to  the  isthmus  Soul, 

That  unites  the  mind  with  God, 
And  its  beautiful  bowers  and  fragrant  flowers 

With  a  reckless  heel  he  trod. 

Oh!  to  you  is  given  this  beautiful  land 

Where  the  lordly  Brain  has  sway — 
But  the  border  ruffian  is  near  at  hand — 

And    be  on  your  guard,  I  pray. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  467 

Beware  of  111  Temper,  the  barbarous  chief, 

He  is  cruel  as  Vice  or  Sin; 
He  will  certainly  bring  your  kingdom  grief 

If  once  you  let  him  in. 

Reading,  CONTROL  OF  TEMPER. 

What  would  you  think  of  a  man  who  had  a  certain  amout  of  money 
given  him  at  his  majority,  with  the  understanding  that  that  was  all  he 
could  ever  have — that  it  must  be  his  entire  purchasing  power  for  com- 
fort and  convenience  while  young  and  strong  and  his  dependence  in 
sickness  and  old  age — yet  who  spent  freely  and  for  the  most  trivial 
things,  that  were  of  no  importance  to  himself  or  others,  from  the  very 
outstart  ? 

Why,  I  am  sure  that  with  your  fine  judgment  you  would  say.  "How 
foolish.  Even  if  he  cannot  gain  more  money  by  labor  or  by  judicioi^^ 
investments  he  can  at  least  take  care  of  what  he  now  has  and  look  on 
each  side  of  a  dollar  before  he  spends  it,  questioning,  'Is  it  worth 
while?*  • 

Just  so,  my  dear.  And  the  girl  or  boy  who  does  not  early  learn 
to  control  temper  is  just  as  foolish  as  that  spendthrift  man ;  for  at  each 
outbreak  a  certain  amount  of  vitality  is  used  up,  the  heart  beats  more 
quickly,  the  blood  rushes  to  the  vital  organs  (sometimes  congesting 
them),  and  the  quality  of  the  blood  is  entirely  changed.  "Is  it  worth 
while?" 

You  have  been  training  your  will,  and  have  learned  in  a  measure 
how  to  control  thought.  Now  you  can  bring  both  of  these  forces  to  bear 
on  your  work  in  the  control  of  temper,  and  from  being  a  hot-headed, 
passionate,  disagreeable  youth  whom  everyone  dreads  you  may  soon 
and  quite  easily  in  some  cases,  dependent  on  will  power — develop  into 
one  of  the  gentlest,  most  manly  and  Christian-like  of  any  of  your 
set.  "Is  it  worth  while?**  Yea,  verily,  for  "he  that  ruleth  his  spirit 
is  greater  than  he  that  taketh  a  city.** 

Here  is  the  process : 

1.  Find  your  weak  points.  Know  just  what  stirs  your  choler  the 
quickest.  Avoid  those  things,  where  possible ;  but  when  they  must  be 
met  face  them  with  a  resolute  "I  will  be  on  my  guard,  and  will  not  be 
made  angry  by  this  coming  onslaught,**  and  then  stick  to  it.  "Fore- 
warned is  forearmed,**  you  know ;  so  let  nothing  swerve  you  from  your 
firm  determination  to  control  your  temper  instead  of  being  controlled 
by  it,  to  be  master  instead  of  mastered. 

2.  Make  a  habit  of  pausing,  however  slightly,  before  speaking — 
even  when  not  angry.  This  will  enable  you  to  control  speech  when 
^"g^ry»  ^J^d  one  who  controls  speech  has  half  won  the  battle.  Control 
of  speech  is  a  good  thing  to  carry  around  in  your  mouth,  any  way,  often 


468  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

befriending  you  when  you  would  otherwise  be  distressed,  and  proving 
as  great  a  comfort  to  others  as  to  yourself;  and  you  are  under  some 
obligations  to  look  out  for  others. 

3.  Plan  your  day  ahead,  mentally,  and  see  what  trying  things  are 
most  likely  to  come  into  it  and  what  uncommon  ones  may  be  foreseen, 
and  ask  the  father  to  help  you  bear  emergencies  with  brave  self-denial 
in  the  matter. 

4.  If  the  impulse  to  speak  becomes  overpowering,  and  you  "must 
speak  or  burst,"  say  something  as  irrelevant  to  the  matter  in  hand  as 
possible,  even  if  it  is  nothing  but  "Charlie  said  he  was  going  to  have  a 
picnic  in  the  icehouse  today,"  or  counting  aloud  or  the  repetition  of  a 
syllable  (la,  la,  la),  or  the  singing  of  a  stanza  of  some  popular  air.  An 
old  rule,  and  one  not  to  be  despised,  is :  "If  angry,  count  ten  before 
speaking;  if  very  angry,  count  one  hundred."  This  should  be  silent 
counting,  of  course,  unless  the  "speaking"  only  refers  to  your  argument 
with  your  opponent. 

5.  Remember,  finally,  that  bodily  conditions  help  make  it  easy  or 
difficult  to  control  the  temper,  for  every  added  irritant  "gets  on  your 
nerves"  and  helps  make  you  an  easy  victim  of  what  might  otl\erwise 
pass  unnoticed ;  so  look  out  for  cleanliness  (a  dirty  skin  stops  the  pores, 
heating  the  blood),  and  use  plenty  of  cold  water  for  the  daily  bath,  even 
if  the  bath  is  only  a  rub  from  the  damp  cloth. 

Look  after  the  diet,  too,  and  avoid  the  "hot"  condiments,  for  these, 
too,  heat  the  blood  besides  destroying  the  digestion,  and  who  is  more 
easily  angered  than  the  dyspeptic?  Make  the  every  day  diet  as  plain 
and  wholesome  as  may  be,  and  so  help  yourself  to  gain  control  of  tem- 
per while  you  are  building  up  bodily  wealth  and  preparing  for  added 
enjoyment  of  the  rare  days  when  you  feel  entitled  to  indulge  in  table 
luxuries. 

So,  too,  of  dress.  Don't  ignore  the  effect  of  tight  shoes,  bands, 
etc.,  on  nerves  and  temper,  and  avoid  whatever  tends  to  discomfort, 
so  far  as  you  can,  even  if  you  have  to  sacrifice  a  well-earned  reputation 
for  "style"  in  order  to  attain  comfort. 

6.  Finally,  begin  the  day  right.  Get  up  early  enough  to  have  a 
few  minutes  in  quiet  communion  with  the  Source  of  all  wisdom  and 
strength,  and  recall  your  very  pleasantest,  most  hopeful  thought-friends. 
Carry  a  bright  face  to  the  family — the  reflection  and  result  of  your 
morning  quiet.  Say  "Good  morning"  in  your  sweetest  voice  and  hap- 
piest manner,  so  helping  dissolve  "the  blues"  which  may  have  become 
rampant  before  your  arrival,  and  making  the  home  atmosphere  one  of 
cheer  and  sunshine,  where  Lord  Temper  finds  no  lackeys  to  do  his  surly 
bidding — and  "God  be  with  you  till  we  meet  again." 

Quotations. 

Proverbs  15:1-15;  19:11-19;  Ecclesiastes  7:8-9;  Matthew  22:26. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


469 


LESSON  THIRTY-FOUR. 

Busy  Hour. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  Pinwheels,  darts,  rugs  and  mats  are 
given  for  this  month's  busy  work.  The  teachers  will  find  it  advisable 
to  make  the  forms  suggested  and  then  decide  which  grade  can  do  the 
work. 

It  is  suggested  that  the  children  be  shown  how  to  do  the  work,  let 
them  make  a  good  start  and  finish  at  home  or  if  agreeable  and  possible 
work  may  be  done  during  the  Story  Hour. 


PINWHEEL — ^DART. 

Material.  For  the  pinwheel,  use  any  common  paper  about  9  inches 
square,  some  small  pieces  of  colored  paper  for  decorative  purposes,  a 
straight  branch  for  the  handle,  and  a  pin  for  axle  of  the  wheel. 

To  Make  the  Wheel.  Rule  or  fold  diagonal  lines  on  the  square 
or  paper,  from  corner  to  corner,  and  cut  heavy  lines  figure  1.  Then  pin 
the  center  points  A,  B,  C,  D,  so  that  the  object  appears  as  figure  2.  The 
wheel  is  attached  by  a  pin  to  the  end  of  a  straight  branch  and  placed 
against  the  breeze.     The  children  delight  very  much  with  this  toy. 

Material  for  Dart.  Use  straight  grained  shingle,  a  common  pocket 
knife,  and  a  piece  of  common  paper  for  the  pattern. 


To  Make  Dart.  The  pattern  should  first  be  made,  as  shown  by 
figure  4,  by  drawing  one-half  of  the  dart  on  the  fold  of  the  paper. 
Trace  the  pattern  on  to  the  shingle  with  a  lead  pencil.  The  wide  end 
of  the  dart  must  be  placed  at  the  thinner  end  of  the  shingle.  In  cutting 
the  shingle,  care  should  be  taken  against  splitting.  The  children  must 
cut  accurately  to  the  line  as  far  as  possible.  After  the  dart  is  whittled 
out,  place  it  across  the  finger  so  that  each  side  will  balance  and  at  the 


470  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

point  where  the  finger  is  holding  the  dart,  cut  a  notch  as  shown  in 
figure  5. 

A  loop  of  a  string  is  placed  in  the  notch.  The  dart  is  held  in  the 
right  hand,  the  string  in  the  left,  then  with  energy  of  the  left  arm  ihe 
dart  is  sent  in  the  air.  The  wide  end  of  the  dart  acts  as  a  balance  and 
thus  holds  the  heavy  pointed  end  in  place,  as  it  extends  forward  in  the 
air.  If  this  dart  is  made  true  and  shot  property,  it  will  extend  into  the 
distance  perhaps  fifty  feet. 


Materials  for  Rug.  For  the  rug  use  strips  of  cloth  that  may  be 
found  in  mother's  rag  bag,  needle  and  thread. 

To  Make.  First  begin  to  braid  in  a  neat  way,  the  strip,  then  lay 
together  in  a  coil  and  sew.  as  shown  by  fig.  1.  Stripes  may  be  placed 
by  using  colored  cloth.  The  coil  should  not  be  drawn  tightly  or  the 
rug  will  be  uneven. 

Materials  for  Mat.  Use  pieces  of  yams,  a  spool,  brads,  and  darn- 
ing needle. 


To  Make.  Place  brads  in  the  end  of  the  spool  as  shown  by  figs- 
5  and  6.  Place  the  yarn  through  the  spool  and  around  the  brads.  See 
fig.  4.  On  the  second  round  with  the  yarn,  loop  the  under  thread  over 
the  upper— see  figs.  6  and  5.  and  draw  into  the  hole  of  the  spool :  con- 
tinue the  process  and  get  the  knitting  as  shown  by  fig.  3.  Make  the 
mat  in  the  same  manner  as  the  rug.  See  fig.  2.  Various  colors  may 
be  run  in  with  pretty  effect. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  471 


LESSON  THIRTY-FIVE. 

The  Story  Hour. 

FIRST  GRADE. 

Stories.     Pippa,  Child  Stories  from  the  Masters,  page  11 ;  or, 

The  Fairy  in  the  Mirror,  Boston  Collection  of  Kindergarten 
Stories,  page  40 ;  or, 

Picture  Books ;  or. 

The  Weeds  That  Bothered  Dora,  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's 
Friend. 

SECOND  GRADE. 

Stories.  The  North  Wind  and  the  Sun,  Boston  Collection  of  Kin- 
dergarten Stories,  page  74 ;  or, 

The  Discontented  Pine  Tree,  Household  Stories,  page  85 ;  or. 
Uncle  Dan's  Cure,  in  this  issue  The  Children's  Friend. 

THIRD.  GRADE. 

Stories.  Diamonds  and  Toads,  Boston  Collection  of  Kindergarten 
Stories,  page  63 ;  or, 

Giant  Bad  Temper,  Among  the  Giants,  page  65 ;  or, 

A  Bad  Tempered  Elephant;  or, 

The  Sale  of  David,  both  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's  Friend. 

FOURTH  GRADE. 

Stories.     A  Man  Without  a  Country :  or, 
Among  the  Giants ;  or. 
An  Inheritance ;  or. 

Grandmother's  Story,  both  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's 
Friend. 

FIFTH  GRADE. 

Stories.    The  Boy  Scouts  of  Woodcraft  Camp ;  or. 

Rick  Dale;  or, 

Polly  Oliver's  Problem ;  or, 

Carrie's  Composite  Expression;  or. 

The  Whole  World  Kin,  both  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's 
Friend. 


472  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

LESSON  THIRTY-SIX. 

The  Social  Hour. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher,  Impress  upon  the  children  the 
value  of  good  temper,  use  songs,  poems,  memory  gems  and  stories 
which  best  illustrate  the  value  of  good  temper. 

Preliminary  music. 
Prayer, 
Singing, 
Story, 

Singing  Games,-  "Ace  of  Diamonds."  Cramptons  Folk  Dance 
Book. 

Games,    All  from  Plays  for  the  Playground. 

"Squirrel  in  Trees,"  page  264. 

"Duck  Dance,"  page  185. 

"Hopping  Relay  Race,"  page  106. 

"Desk  Relay,"  page  309. 

"Hands  up,"  page  221. 

Memory  Gems, 

Song, 

Benediction, 


WHERE  THE  HEDGE  IS  LOWEST. 

Says  old  Richard  Sibbes,  of  long,  long  ago,  "Satan  goes  over  the 
hedge  where  it  is  lowest."  Isn't  it  true?  This  enemy  of  ours  does  not 
waste  any  time  or  strength.  If  there  is  a  weak  place,  a  low  place  in  the 
guarding  hedge,  he  will  take  that  rather  than  batter  and  pull  down  the 
defenses  where  they  are  strongest. 

What  shall  we  do  then?  Make  up  the  hedge.  Be  watchful  at 
the  weakest  points,  and  build  highest,  set  the  hedge  thickest  there.  If 
there  are  no  low  places,  we  will  at  least  make  it  hard  for  the  enemy  to 
get  in. 


The  law  does  not 'allow  anyone  to  carry  concealed  weapons.  But 
some  boys  carry  tempers  round  with  them  that  are  quite  as  dangerous 
as  revolvers,  and  very  much  more  likely  to  go  off  at  halfcock.  An  ex- 
plosive temper  is  a  thing  to  be  disposed  of,  no  matter  how  much  trouble 
it  takes.  George  Washington  mastet  ed  his  in  youth,  and  set  an  example 
to  all  American  boys. — Selected. 


"phi,  a  great  deal  depends  upon  you  now!" 


The  CHILDREN'S  Friend 


J 


I 


Vol.  12  SEPTEMBER  1913  No.  9 


LITTLE  PRINCESS  WISLA. 

BY  SOPHIE  SWETT. 
CHAPTER  IX. BETTY  BROOKS   LENDS  A   HAND. 

"Tick-tick-click-click,"  went  the  machine  in  the  telegraph  office, 
until  Phi,  who  had  been  waiting,  waiting  since  early  morning,^  felt 
as  if  it  were  ticking  and  clicking  in  his  head.  Half  the  men  in  Polly- 
whoppet  seemed  to  be  having  telegrams  that  morning  but  no  answer 
came  from  Jo  Peebles  to  Dr.  Brooks. 

At  last,  late  in  the  afternoon,  the  operator,  who  was  interested 
in  the  search  for  Peggy — as,  indeed,  who  in  PoUywhoppet  was  not? — 
called  to  Phi  and  read  him  the  message  just  as  she  had  ticked  it  off. 

**Dog  cur  belonging  to  Indian  girl.  No  white  child.  Nothing 
suspicious." 

Old  Winne-Lackee  had  done  her  work  well  with  the  pokeberry 
ink,  with  the  Indian  way  of  combing  Peggy's  straight  black  hair 
and  with  her  Indian  dress. 

And  Peggy's  loss  of  memory,  together  with  her  quickness  in 
learning  the  Indian  speech  and  all  the  Indian  ways,  had  made  the  old 
Squaw's  success  complete. 

Only  a  fortnight  had  passed  since  Peggy  had  dropped  out  of 
her  own  world — and,  already  she  looked  to  Jo  Peebles  like  "a  thorough 
little  Indian !" 

Poor  Phi !  When  he  read  that  message  his  heart  sank  low  indeed. 

He  went  out  of  the  office  without  a  word.  He  heard  the  telegraph 
operator  say  before  he  closed  the  door,  "Poor  little  Peggy  was  drowned 
in  the  river.    They  might  as  well  give  up  the  search !" 

And  he  knew  that  the  throng  of  people  in  the  telegraph  office, 
which  was  the  post-office  as  well,  were  all  nodding  their  heads  in  sad 
agreement  with  the  operator  that  Peggy  was  drowned. 

When  he  handed  the  telegram  to  Dr.  Brooks  the  strong  man's 
lip  trembled. 

"I  had  not  much  hope.  Phi,  my  boy,"  he  said  huskily,  when  he  had 
read  it.     "The  old  times  when  Indians  made  captives  of  white  chil- 


476  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

dren  are  gone  by.  Those  Indians  on  the  island  would  not  be  4ikely  to 
kidnap  a  child.  Such  things  are  done  for  money,  nowadays.  The  rich 
old  Squaw  who  rules  up  there  on  the  island  has  no  need  of  money  and 
I  don't  believe  she  would  allow  such  a  thing  if  she  had.  I  set  a  broken 
arm  for  her  once  and  I  found  that  there  was  something  really  human 
about  her.  No,  no.  Phi!  She  has  only  her  own  little  granddaughter 
with  her  and  the  granddaughter's  dog.  As  for  Stumpy  he  probably 
fell  off  a  raft  into  the  river  and  was  drowned.  He  was  always  getting 
upon  the  rafts  you  know,  and  especially  since — since  Peggy  went." 

"I — I  guess  I  know  the  wag  of  Stumpy's  tail !"  insisted  Phi  hoarse- 
ly, because  he  wanted  to  cry.  "And  I  guess  Rex  has  too  many  dog- 
brains  to  make  a  fool  of  himself!" 

Phi  broke  down  after  that  out-burst.  He  felt  heart-broken  now 
and  scarcely  cared  who  saw  him  cry. 

Dr.  Brooks  put  his  arm  around  the  boy's  shoulder.  "Phi,  a  great 
deal  depends  upon  you,  now !"  he  said  gravely.  "Your  father  is  going 
to  take  your  mother  to  Europe  and  you  will  be  the  man  of  the  family 
while  he  is  gone.  You  know  how  this  trouble  has  broken  your  grand- 
father down.     Even  he  will  lean  upon  you !" 

"Going  to  Europe? — now,  with  Peggy  gone?"  gasped  Phi. 

"A  report  has  come  of  a  little  girl  having  been  picked  up  by  a 
Norwegian  vessel  from  a  raft  that  was  adrift  far  out  at  sea.  There 
was  a  small  raft  missing,  that  day,  you  know ;  the  owner  thought  that 
some  Freeport  ruffians  had  stolen  it,  as  they  had  stolen  others.  It  is 
possible  that  it  went  adrift  with  Peggy  upon  it,  but  I  am  afraid  this 
may  prove  a  false  hope  like  so  many  others.  But  it  will  be  good  for 
your  mother  to  go.  So,  Phi,  you  must  be  the  strong  man  of  the  family 
and  keep  up  your  grandfather's  heart." 

Phi  held  his  head  a  little  higher  now,  and  the  tears  on  his  cheeks 
were  hastily  brushed  away. 

"Grandpa  doesn't  believe  that  Peggy  was  drowned,  I  know,"  he 
said  slowly.  "But  it  wasn't  a  bit  like  our  Peggy  to  get  on  to  a  raft 
and  be  carried  off  to  Norway !  She  had  more  sense !  And,  whatever 
anyone  may  say,,  it  wasn't  a  bit  like  Stumpy  to  be  drowned.  And  may- 
be"— Phi's  eyes  shone  now  through  a  mist — "maybe  Grandpa  and 
I  and  your  Sidney  and  Betty  and  all  the  Pollwhoppet  boys  and  girls. 
who  thought  such  a  lot  of  her  that  they  can't  bear  to  believe  she  is 
dead,  may  find  her  instead  of  Papa  and  Mama  and  alP  the  detectives 
and  things  who  are  going  off  everywhere.  Anyway  we  shan't  give  up 
trying!  And  whatever  Jo  Peebles  may  say  I  am  going  up  to  that 
Indian  island  again  when  the  old  Squaw  comes  home!" 

Down  in  the  ship-yard  on  the  very  day  when  his  father  and  mother 
sailed  for  Europe,  Phi  had  a  chance  to  find  out  just  what  a  need  there 
was  that  he  should  be,  as  Dr.  Brooks  had  said,  "the  man  of  the  family. 

Twelve  years  old  is  not  very  far  along  towards  being  a  man.  bui 
Grandpa's  great  need  of  him  was  going  to  bring  upon  Phi  a  sense  oi 
strength  and  manliness.     For  poor  Grandpa,  who  had  been  a  strong 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  477 

man  in  mind  and  body  for  his  years,  seemed  to  have  been  brought 
suddenly  to  his  second  childhood  by  the  loss  of  Peggy. 

Phi  found  him  wandering  around  the  ship-yard,  searching,  search- 
ing in  the  piles  of  sawdust,  under  the  great  piles  of  boards — where 
there  were  no  "teeters"  now — ^and  even  all  over  the  new  ship,  the 
"Margaret  Piper,"  still  waiting  upon  the  ways,  for  some  trace  of  his 
little  lost  granddaughter. 

Phi  remembered  the  water-soaked  hair-ribbon  in  his  pocket  but 
he  had  the  broken  coral  bead  to  keep  it  company  and  there  was  always 
hope  in  that  bead. 

He  followed  Grandpa  up  to  the  deck  of  the  new  ship.  The  old 
man's  gaze  was  wandering  wistfully  over  the  river  as  he  stood  there. 

"We  don't  believe  Peggy  was  drowned,  Grandpa!"  said  Phi 
earnestly.  "Not  one  of  the  PoUywhoppet  boys  and  girls  believes  it! 
And  not  one  of  them  is  going  to  stop  trying  to  find  her.  They — ^they 
all  know  that  our  Peggy  was  just  the  right  kind  of  a  girl !" 

What  he  meant  was  they  all  loved  Peggy  but  he  felt  that  that 
would  be  talking  like  a  girl.  Besides  he  had  to  try  pretty  hard, 
anyway,  to  keep  back  the  tears. 

Grandpa  didn't  try.  His  face  had  looked  hard  and  set,  but 
the  tears  rushed  to  his  eyes  now  in  a  flood  and  his  lips  quivered  like 
a  child's. 

"The  PoUywhoppet  boys  and  girls — bless  them!"  he  murmured 
softly.  "So  you  think  they  will  find  our  Peggy  when  the  grown 
people  can't  ?  Well,  well,  the  children  can  do  great  things !  We'll  see, 
we'll  see  who  will  find  Peggy!" 

Sidney  Brooks  was  coming  toward  the  ship  with  Rex  at  his  heels. 
Rex,  who  remained  at  his  old  home,  now  annoyed  no  one.  The  dog 
seemed  too  depressed  by  the  disappearance  of  his  old  friend  Stumpy 
to  bark.    Sidney  and  Rex  came  up  to  the  ship's  deck. 

"Grandpa,  Sidney  and  I  want  you  to  promise  us  one  thing!"  said 
Phi  earnestly.  "The  ^Margaret  Piper'  is  your  ship  and  we  want  you 
to  say  solemnly  that  she  never  shall  be  launched  until  Peggy  is  here 
to  christen  her." 

Grandpa  gazed  into  the  boys'  eager  faces  and  then  again  at 
the  deep,  swiftly-flowing  river. 

Although  he  had  become  almost  a  child  again  Grandpa  could  not 
hope  quite  so  strongly  as  the  children. 

But  his  face  suddenly  caught  the  brightness  of  the  boys. 

It  was  almost  as  if  something  had  whispered  to  him,  that  hope  is 
always  the  good,  true  thing  to  trust. 

"I'll  promise  you!  We'll  shake  hands  on  it!"  he  said,  almost 
happily.  "The  ship's  launching-day  shall  never  come  until  our  Peggy 
christens  her — not  if  she  goes  to  pieces  on  the  ways!" 

The  boys  hurrahed.  Phi  tried  his  best  to  keep  the  tears  out  of  his 
voice ;  it  was  so  good  to  see  the  hope  in  Grandpa's  face !  But  as  for  that 
dog  Rex,  he  would  not  bark  and  frisk  as  he  usually  did  when  the  boys 


478  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

hurrahed;  he  only  sat  down  upon  his  hind  legs  and  howled  dolefully! 

'"Rex,  old  fellow,  we  are  going  up  to  the  Indian  island  again  next 
week,"  said  Phi — for  he  had  persuaded  Sidney  to  go  and  see  what 
they  could  find  out,  even  in  the  absence  of  the  old  squaw  and  her  little 
granddaughter  and  the  little  stumpy-tailed  dog. 

They  would  row  up  in  a  boat  and  take  Rex  with  them.  The  In- 
dians might  not  allow  them  tu  land  but  they  would  try  it,  anyway!  Rex 
pricked  up  his  ears  when  he  heard  that. 

But  alas!  measles  had  broke  out  in  Pollywhoppet.  On  the  day 
when  the  boys  had  planned  to  go  to  the  Indian  island  Sidney  m-as  in 
bed,  in  a  darkened  room,  and  Phi's  severe  cold  and  sore  throat  made  it 
evident  what  was  coming  to  him. 

Mrs.  Brooks  said  that  Betty  must  b,^  sent  away.  The  child  "a; 
worn  out  with  grieving  for  Peggy  and  she  did  not  wish  her  to  take 
the  measles  just  now.  It  was  fortunate  that  Betty  wished  to  go  away 
with  Aunt  Rebecca  Style,  who  was  willing  to  take  her;  very  fortunate, 
hut  a  little  queer,  because  .^unt  Rebecca  Style  thought  that  little  gid- 
should  always  be  too  much  dressed  up  to  play  and  that  dolls  were 
silly  and  puppies  and  kittens  too  troublesome ! 

"Yon  are  a  little  goose!  Yon  won't  have  a  good  time,"  said  Si<iney 
when  Betty  was  taking  leave  of  him — through  the  keyhole  for  fear 
of  the  measles, 

"Oh,  don't  you  know  why  I  am  going  with  Aunt  Rebecca  Style:" 
whispered  Betty.  "She  is  going  to  Canada  and  I  am  going  there  to 
find   Peggy." 

For,  in  spite  of  Jo  Peebfe's  message,  the  Pollywhoppet  gids 
believed  that  the  old  squaw  was  carrying  Pegg:)-  off  with  her  little 
granddaughter.  There  was  even  a  whisper  that  she  might  have  tunied 
Peggy  into  a  bird  or  a  beast  like  an  old  witch  in  a  fairy-book.  Betty 
Brooks  herself  knew  better  than  that — but  perhaps  she  did  not  know. 
as  Sidney  scornfully  told  her,  "how  big  a  place  Canada  was." 

She  didn't  seem  to  lose  courage  after  he  told  her  that,  for  she 
simply  whispered,  again  through  the  key-hole,  with  every  word  lik* 
a  little  explosion : 

"I — am— going — to — find — Peggy !" 

(To  be  eonlinued) 


(IFF  TO  SCHOOL. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  479 


TRIED  AND  PROVEN. 

r 

'•Wanted:  A  bright,  intelligent  office  boy,  not  over  sixteen  years 
old.  Must  be  quick  and  not  afraid  to  work.  Apply  with  references 
Xo.  64  Times  Building,  Friday  morning  at  nine  o'clock." 

Julius  read  and  reread  this  advertisement  in  The  Evening  Post. 
He  had  already  made  up  his  mind  that  he  would,  at  least,  try  and 
^et  the  place.  "But  what  is  the  use?"  he  said  to  himself,  "there  will  be 
lots  of  other  boys  there  all  dressed  up  in  fine  clothes ;  of  course  one  of 
them  will  get  the  place."  But  Julius  had  already  made  up  his  mind 
to  try  for  the  place,  and  he  was  not  the  boy  to  give  up  without  good 
cause. 

When  he  told  his  mother  about  the  plan  she  herself  had  little  hope 
of  Julius  getting  the  place. 

"Julius,  my  dear  boy,''  she  said,  "mother  certainly  hopes  you  will 
be  successful;  I  am  quite  sure  if  the  party  knew  you  as  well  as  your 
mother  does,  you  would  have  no  trouble  in  securing  the  place,  but 
then—" 

"Now,  mother,  please  don't  let's  have  any  *but  thens,*  for  I  mean 
to  try  at  all  odds."  Here  Julius  looked  puzzled.  "Who  could  I  get 
for  reference?"  he  added.    "I  have  never  worked  anywhere  before." 

"You  might  get  our  neighbor,  Mr.  Dobbins ;  he  has  known  you 
since  you  were  a  baby." 

"But,  mother,  he  could  not  recommend  me  as  an  office  boy,'*  and 
Julius's  face  still  bore  a  puzzled  look. 

"That's  so,  my  son.  Mother  never  thought  of  that.  And  if  he' 
cannot  T  don't  know  whci  you  can  get.  Maybe  you  will  just  have  to 
put  on  a  bold  face  and  do  the  best  you  can.  Explain  to  the  gentleman 
the  reason  whv  vou  haven't  anv  references,  and  — "Here  Mrs.  Pevton 
remembered  that  this  would  hardly  suffice  in  a  business  transaction. 
"Julius,  you  must  have  references  of  some  kind,"  she  concluded. 

The  next  day,  bright  and  early,  Julius,  attired  in  his  best  suit, 
which  was  verv  skillfully  patched  in  several  places,  and  his  white  shirt, 
done  up  by  his  mother's  own  loving  hands,  started  to  town. 

At  the  Times  Building  he  took  the  elevator  to  room  No.  64,  which 
was  on  the  sixth  floor.  When  he  went  to  the  office  he  was  told  to  have 
a  seat,  and  that  Mr.  Hamilton  would  see  him  when  his  turn  came. 

Mr.  Hamilton,  a  prominent  lawyer,  had  put  a  notice  in  the  St. 
Louis  Post,  and  Jidius  found,  as  he  had  expected,  a  large  number 
of  applicants  waiting  in  the  office. 

He  felt  somewhat  ashamed  when  he  glanced  at  the  boys  before 
him  and  noted  that  nearly  all  were  dressed  much  better  that  himself. 

When  Julius's  time  came  he  was  the  last  but  one.  and  as  he  was 
readv  to  go  into  Mr.  Hamilton's  private  office  Bob  Black,  who  lived 
in  an  elegant  house  on  Madison  Avenue,  stepped  in  front  of  him  saying: 
I^t  me  go  first.     I  haven't  time  to  hang  around  here  all  day."     And 


<< 


480  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

• 

without  waiting  for  an  answer  he  threw  away  his  cigarette  stump  and 
passed  in,  thinking  he  had  gained  quite  a  point  toward  getting  the 
position,  and  saying  to  himself.    "Soft  guy,  that  country  is." 

Mr.  Hamilton  kept  him  but  a  short  time,  however,  and  then  came 
Julius's  turn.  He  felt  his  chances  were  not  very  good  after  Mr. 
Hamilton  had  seen  all  of  those  well-dressed  fellows,  but  with  a  daunt- 
less spirit  he  held  his  head  up  and  walked  in. 

Mr.  Hamilton,  a  kind-looking  middle-aged  gentleman,  was  sitting 
at  his  desk,  surrounded  by  masses  of  books  and  papers,  but  as  Julius  en- 
ter. 1  he  looked  up.  "Have  this  seat,  my  son,**  he  said,  "I  suppose  you 
came  in  answer  to  my  notice?"  He  spoke  in  such  a  friendly  tone  that 
Julr^  felt  more  encouraged. 

"Yes,  sir;  I  read  your  advertisement  in  last  evening's  Post  and 
thought  I  would  try  for  the  place,  as  mother  needs  my  help  so  much." 

"So  you  want  the  place  to  help  your  mother?"  said  Mr.  Himilt  n. 
"That  is  one  good  thing  in  you  to  start  on.  I  always  like  a  boy  t'.at 
really  wants  to  help  his  mother.    Your  name,  my  son,  is — ?" 

"  Julius,  Julius  Peyton,  sir,  and  I  live  out  on  Sixteenth  Street,  in  the 
Liberty  Addition,"  and  Julius's  big  honest  brown  eyes  looked  straight 
into  those  of  Mr.  Hamilton. 

Mr.  Hamilton  turned  around  and  in  doing  so  he  pushed,  with  his 
elbow,  several  packages  of  papers  ofiF  his  desk.  At  once  Julius  was  on 
his   knees,   carefully   gathering  them  together. 

"Never  mind  that,  my   son ;   I   will  attend  to  those." 

"O,  sir,  there  is  no  need,"  said  Juilus,  as  he  carefully  replaced  them 
on  the  desk,  "I  have  them  pretty  well  fixed  now." 

Mr.  Hamilton  watched  him  and  noticed  how  quick  his  movements 
were  and  how  neatly  he  arranged  the  papers.  On  the  whole,  Mr.  Hamil- 
ton liked  Julius  very  much,  but  he  gave  hirh  no  encouragement  in  so 
manv  words. 

"You  may  go  now,  my  son,  and  if  I  should  decide  to  employ  you. 
T  will  let  you  know.     Your  address  again,  please." 

"Julius  Peyton,  No.  118  Sixteenth  Street,  Liberty  Addition.  Here 
is  my  rference,  sir ;  I  was  about  to  forget  it ;  your  advertisement  called 
for  references,"  said  Julius,  as  he  handed  Mr.  Hamilton  a  brief  com- 
mendation which  Mr.  Dobbins,  after  all,  had  gladly  given  him. 

"So  it  did — so  it  did,  my  son,"  said  the  lawyer,  "I  had  forgotten 
to  ask  for  your  reference,''  and  as  Julius  closed  the  door  he  said  to  his 
private  secretary:  "It  never  occurred  to  me  to  ask  such  a  gentlemanly 
little  fellow  as  he  was  for  reference ;  his  very  actions  are  worth  more 
than  a  dozen  references."  He  then  turned  to  his  stenographer  and  said, 
as  he  handed  her  Julius's  address:  "Write  this  young  man  to  call 
Monday  morninjc;'  at  nine  o'clock." 

The  stCTioo^raj)her  looked  puzzled.  "What  about  those  other  boys 
whose  names  you  gave  me  ?    What  do  you  want  done  with  them  ?" 

"Write  them  to  call  here  also,  and  make  it  the  same  hour  Monday 
morning,"  he  replied.     "I  am  going  to  do  what  I  have  never  done 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  481 

before,  and  that  is,  I  am  going  to  give  my  reasons  before  them  all  for 
employing  tbi's  young  Peyton  gentleman.  Perhaps  it  will  be  a  lesson  to 
them,  soiii*  •   ing  which  some  of  them  seem  to  need." 

Wntti.  ulius  got  home  he  was  hot,  tired,  and  somewhat  disap- 
point; 

**JViOLiier  is  so  sorry  for  you,  son ;  you  deserve  better,  but  those  other 
fellows  just  outdressed  you.  I  am  sure  if  this  Mr.  Hamilton  had  really 
known  how  very  badly  you  needed  the  place  he  would  at  least  have 
given  you  a  trial.'* 

The  next  morning  the  postman  brought  Julius  a  letter,  and  upon 
seeing  Mr.  Hamilton's  address  on  the  envelope  he  lost  no  time  in  finding 
out  its  contents. 

"Mother,  read  this,"  he  said,  a  minute  later,  handing  her  the  letter. 
"Mr.  Hamilton  wants  me  to  come  up  to  his  office  Monday  morning  at 
nine  o'clock.    I  hope  he  has  decided  to  g^ve  me  a  trial." 

Monday  morning,  promptly  at  nine  o'clock,  every  boy  that  had  been 
there  before  was  again  present.  They  did  not  understand  why  so 
many  had  been  notified  to  return,  but  each  one  seemed  to  expect  the 
place  to  fall  to  him.  Mr.  Hamilton  had  them  all  come  in  his  private 
office. 

"Boys,"  said  he,  when  they  were  all  before  him,  "I  am  going  to  do 
something  that  I  have  never  done  before.  In  selecting  the  right  boy 
for  this  place  I  had  to  bear  in  mind  whether  or  not  that  boy  was  a  gen- 
tleman Coys,  a  gentleman  embodies  all  that  is  good  and  noble  in  a 
l)oy,  and  you  should  remember. that  good  clothes  do  not  necessarily  make 
a  gentleman.  I  have  decided  to  give  this  position  which  can  easily  in 
time  he  made  to  lead  to  a  more  valuable  one,  to  Julius  Peyton,  and  you, 
my  son,"  he  said,  laying  his  hands  on  Julius'  shoulder,  "are  well  worthy 
of  the  choice,  and  I  have  no  fear  but  that  you  will  improve  your  op- 
portunities." And  without  waiting  for  Julius  to  make  a  reply,  and  to 
the  astonishment  of  all  the  other  boys,  he  called  his  stenographer  and 
said  to  her:  "Miss  Kepwith,  this  young  man,  Julius  Peyton,  is  to  be 
my  office  boy.  He  is  to  help  you  all  he  can.  I  wish  you  would  show 
him  about  filing  those  letters,  so  he  can  get  at  it  at  once;  they  are 
accumulating  rapidly." 

Then  turning  to  the  other  boys,  he  said :  "Young  men,  you  will 
always  find  it  a  good  plan  to  watch  the  little  things  in  your  conduct; 
to  be  courteous,  thoughtful,  and  not  vain  of  what  you  wear  or  who  you 
are.  These  are  very  simple  things,  but  when  coupled  with  industry  and 
an  honest  desire  to  please,  they  do  not  often  fail  to  bring  that  success 
which  no  doubt  all  of  you  hope  some  day  to  attain.  Let  this  experience 
be  a  lesson  to  you,  in  that  it  may  emphasize  the  advantage  of  always 
being  a  gentleman.     Good  day." 

Nor  were  these  words  lost,  for  each  boy  went  away  more  thoughtful 
and  wiser  than  when  he  came. 

Before  Julius  left  that  night  he  went  to  thank  Mr.  Hamilton, 


482  rtlELiilLDRLN'S  IRIEXD. 

and  he  did  it  in  such  a  way  as  to  cause  Mr.  Hamilton  much  satis- 
faction over  his  selection  as  office  boy. 

His  mother  was  very  much  elated  over  her  son's  success. 

"It  is  all  due  to  your  love  and  training,  my  dear,  good  mother." 
said  Julius,  as  he  finished  relating  the  events  of  the  day. 


-  ^  ~i 


BILLY. 

Aunt  Jane's  little  nephew  was  cross  and  out  of  sorts.  It  was 
rainy  and  he  hadn't  been  able  to  go  outdoors  all  day.  He  had  played 
with  his  cart ;  he  had  played  with  his  blocks  and  spools,  and  now  he 
was  tired  of  doing  anything  in  the  house  and  wanted  to  go  outdoors. 

"But,  my  dear  Billy,"  said  Aunt  Jane  gently,  "we  cannot  help 
it  because  it  is  raining.  Why  what  do  you  think  we  would  do  without 
the  gentle  rain  ?  We  wouldn't  be  able  to  get  anything  to  eat  if  it  were 
not  for  the  rain  that  feeds  the  flowers,  the  grain  and  all  living 
creatures." 

"I  know  that.  Aunt  Jane ;  but  why  does  it  always  rain  when  I  want 
to  go  outdoors  ?  I  want  some  dinner,  too,  and  it  is  twice  as  long  to 
dinner  time  when  I  have  to  stay  in  the  house.  I  don't  care.  Aunt 
Jane,  I  think  it  is  real  mean!" 

"Why  Billy,  you  remind  me  of  a  little  fellow  that  I  met  once  when 
I  was  traveling  in  Mexico.  He  was  called  Billy,  too.  Billy  was  all  right 
as  long  as  things  went  his  way,  and  as  long  as  he  was  fed  with  plent}'  of 
good  things.  But  if  his  friends  tried  to  get  him  to  do  things  that 
he  thought  he  didn't  want  to  do,  he  would  simply  refuse  even  to  eat. 
Now  you  don't  want  to  be  like  that  Billy,  do  you?  But  after  a  while 
his  friends  found  that  if  they  put  a  handkerchief  over  his  eyes,  so  that 
he  couldn't  see  what  was  going  on,  Billy. would  do  anything,  or  tr>' 
to  do  anything  for  bis  friends      But  that  Billy  was  a  little  donkey." 

"Come,  now,  do  not  be  fussy  or  out  of  sorts  any  more,  and  Aunt 
Jane  will  make  better  use  of  a  handkerchief  and  play  blind  man's  buff 
with  this  Billy  until  dinner  time." 

And  do  you  know,  it  didn't  seem  ten  minutes,  although  it  was 
really  nearly  half  an  hour,  before  mother  called,  "Come,  folks,  dinner 
is  ready,  and  I  know  that  Billy  is  hungry." 

And  Billy  laughed  as  Aunt  Jane  took  off  the  handkerchief  from 
his  eyes,  and  he  said  with  a  smile,  "I  am  glad  the  other  Billy's  friends 
discovered  how  to  make  him  forget  his  load,  for  this  handkerchief  has 
made  me  forget  the  time,  because  I  couldn't  see  the  clock." — Selected. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


UNCLE  RALPH'S  BROWNIE. 

BV  KATE  UPSON   CLARK 

When  Rose  and  Nannette  Snow  went  out  to  the  Yellowstone 
Park  with  their  mother,  what  they  really  wanted •  most  to  see  was 
Uncle  Ralph. 

Uncle  Ralph  was  an  uncle  of  Mrs.  Snow,  hut  he  was  not  much  old- 
er than  she  was.  Many  years  ago  he  had  gone  to  Montana.  He  had 
expected  to  make  his  fortune  in  the  mines,  but  he  had  not  had  very 
good  hick.  Still,  he  had  stayed  on  and  on,  working  and  hoping.  All 
the  lime  he  had  been  writing  to  Mrs.  Snow  and  the  children  often. 
He  made  pictures  on  the  letters  and  told  funny  stories.  Many  of  these 
stories  were  about  his  wonderful  collie  dog,  Brownie,  The  children 
wanted  to  see  Brownie  almost  as  much  as  to  sec  Uncle  Ralph. 

Every  little  while.  Uncle  Ralph  would  send  a  box  of  presents  to 
the  children.  He  had  never  seen  them,  but  they  had  sent  photographs 
back  and  forth  so  often,  that  they  felt  sure  they  would  know  each  other 
when  they  met.  Many  photographs  of  Brownie,  too,  had  been  sent  to 
the  children.  They  were  sure  they  were  going  to  know  Brownie  the 
very  first  minute. 

There  was  a  great  time  finding  out  what  train  to  take  to  get  to 
Uncle  Ralph's.  He  lived  at  Tentacle — a  tiny  mountain  village,  twenty 
miles  up  from  a  railroad,  Traymore  was  the  nearest  railroad  station 
to  him.  But  the  express  trains  ran  over  another  road — what  was  called 
"the  Short  Cut,"  a  new  track,  not  yet  entirely  finished,  but  still  so 


484  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

that  it  could  be  used.  Axtell,  on  the  "Short  Cut,"  was  the  most  con- 
venient station  for  the  Snows  to  come  on.  It  was  finally  arranged  that 
Uncle  Ralph  should  come  down  to  Axtell,  and  they  would  all  spend 
the  night  there  and  have  a  good  visit. 

In  point  of  fact,  Uncle  Ralph  was  so  impatient  to  see  them  that 
he  arrived  at  Axtell  three    days  before  the  Snows  were  due  there. 

This  made  some  confusion,  as  you  will  see. 

For,  at  the  last  moment,  Mrs.  Snow  decided  to  go  to  Traymore, 
instead  of  by  the  "Short  Cut"  to  Axtell,  §o  she  telegraphed  to  Uncle 
Ralph  at  Tentacle.  But,  as  we  know.  Uncle  Ralph  was  quietly  waiting 
up  at  Axtell,  and  never  got  the  telegram  at  all. 

Behold,  the  train  drawing  into  Traymore !  Out  tumble  two  excited 
little  girls,  and  their  excited  mother.  The  porter  follows,  carrying 
their  bags. 

"Set  them  right  down,"  said  Mrs.  Snow. 

Yes,  Uncle  Ralph  will  take  them,"  cried  the  children. 

But  no  Uncle  Ralph  was  there.  Off  went  the  train,  and  tjie  little 
group  felt  lonely  enough,  in  the  strange  wild  country — for  there  were 
only  a  dozen  or  so  shanties  in  the  whole  village  of  Traymore. 

As  they  stood  there  looking  gloomily  around.  Nannette's  quick 
eye  spied  a  dog  prowling  about  a  stage-coach  which  was  standing  not 
far  away. 

"Look !'  she  cried.    "There's  Brownie !" 

"It  does  look  like  his  pictures,"  admitted  Mrs.  Snow.  "Let  us 
ask." 

They  walked  over  to  the  stage-coach.  The  driver  was  just  mount- 
ing the  box. 

Yes,  that  was  Mr.  Ralph  Kane's  "Brownie." 

"But  where  is  Mr.  Kane?"  asked  Mrs.  Snow. 

The  dog  pricked  up  his  ears. 

"Brownie!"  said  the  stage-driver,  sternly.  "Go  over  there  and 
lie  down  under  the  shed — clear  over — clear  over,  I  say!  There — now 
stav  there!" 

"You  see,"  he  explaimed  to  the  Snows,  in  a  low  voice,  "Mr.  Kane 
told  me  not  to  say  before  Brownie  where  he  was.  He's  gone  to  Axtell. 
to  meet  some  friends — but  if  Brownie  knew  it,  he'd  l:e  in  Axtell  toe, 
as  quick  as  he  could  get  there." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Kane  has  gone  to  meet  usT  cried  Mrs.  Snow,  explain- 
ing in  her  turn  to  the  stage-driver.  "He  could  not  have  received 
our  telegram." 

"Probaby  not,"  answered  the  driver.  "Telegrams  are  mighty 
uncertain  around  here.  And  now  you  can't  send  any  telegrams  up 
Axtell  way  anyhow,  for  a  dam  broke  out  up  there,  and  all  the  poles  went 
down  for  miles." 

"But  we  can't  stay  long,"  cried  Mrs.  Snow,  "and  we  wouldn't  miss 
seeing  Mr.  Kane  for  the  world.    What  shall  we  do?" 

The  driver  scratched  his  head. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEA'Ij.  485 

"You  might  tell  Brownie  that  he's  at  Axtell — and  tie  a  note  to 
him— and  Mr.  Kane'd  get  it  before  dark  tonight/*  (It  was  then 
about  two  o'clock.) 

"Really  ?"breathed  Mrs.  Snow. 

"I'd  be  willing  to  bet  'most  anything  on  it,"  said  the  driver.  "He 
is  so  crazy  to  find  his  master  that  he  has  run  twice  from  Tentacle  here 
with  me,  and  back  again.  It's  a  good  twenty  miles  and  he  gets  tired — but 
he  will  go  every  time  till  his  master  gets  back  to  Tentacle.  I  never 
saw  such  a  dog." 

So  Mrs.  Snow  wrgte  a  note.  It  was  put  into  a  tin  box,  and  then 
tied  securely  around  Brownie's  neck.  Then  the  stage-driver  said,  "Mr. 
Kane  is  over  to  Axtell,  Brownie — Axtell.    You  understand?" 

The  dog  barked  excitedly. 

"Well — you  get  along  there  and  find  him,  and  bring  him  back  with 
you  as  fast  as  ever  you  can.  Now  right  up  the  mountain  there,  as 
fast  as   you   can   go!" 

So  up  the  steep  rocky  side  of  the  mountain  bounded  the  good 
dog,  and  late  that  afternoon,  watching  the  trail  which  had  been  pointed 
out  to  them,  the  Snows  saw  through  a  strong  spy-glass,  the  faithful 
creature  toiling  over  the  upper  rocks  of  the  great  hill  r  iarly  at  the 
top.    When  he  reached  that  point,  he  would  be  in  sight  of  Axtell. 

The  next  morning,  just  as  soon  as  breakfast  was  over,  they  began 
to  watch  the  trail  again.  Everybody  said  that  Mr.  Kane  would  prob- 
ably take  a  burro  and  come  right  over  the  mountain  just  as  the  dog 
had  gone.  By  any  other  route  it  was  a  good  day's  round-about  ride 
from  Axtell  to  Traymore. 

It  was  nearly  eleven  o'clock  when  a  speck  appeared  on  the  exposed 
part  of  the  trail.  You  never  saw  more  wildly  excited  people  than  Rose 
and  Nannette,  when  they  saw  through  the  spy-glass  that  the  speck 
was  a  man  riding  a  burro — and  that  a  big  dog  was  running  along  beside 
him! 

"Mama!'  the  girls  cried,  "it  is  Uncle  Ralph  and  Brownie!" 

Coming  down  a  mountain  is  quick  w^ork,  and  it  was  only  a  little 
past  noon  when  Uncle  Ralph  rode  into  the  yard  of  the  rough  inn  where 
the  Snows  were  waiting  for  him  .  Then  they  had  some  happy  hours 
together — and  the  happiest  one  in  the  whole  party  was  Brownie. 

"Oh,  you  good,  wise  dog !  You  do  understand  words,  and  names 
of  places,  too,  don't  you  ?"  Rose  said  to  him.  "I  wish  somebody  would 
invent  something  nice  to  do  for  dogs  when  you  love  and  thank  them 
very  much.  All  we  can  do  is  to  pat  them  and  give  them  bones — and 
we  mustn't  give  them  many  bones  or  else  they  will  be  sick !" 

And  surely  if  it  had  not  been  for  Brownie,  they  would  not  have 
seen  Uncle  Ralph — for  he  had  risen  before  sunrise  that  morning  in 
order  to  make  the  hard  journey  over  the  terrible  mountain. 

The  g^rls  begged  to  take  Brownie  home  with  them,  they  loved 
him  so  much — but  their  mother  said  she  would  not  for  the  world  take 
awav  that  faithful  friend  from  Uncle  Ralph. 


486  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


PETER. 

BY  SYDNEY  DAYRE 

There  was  no  denying  the  fact  that  Peter  Larkin  was  a  hard  case. 
No  one  could  say  that  he  ever  had  done  anything  specially  bad.  'That 
will  probably  come  as  he  grows  older,"  had  been  said  with  a  groan 
by  some  of  those  who  were  striving  to  win  the  boys  to  pure  lives,  and 
true  manhood. 

Peter  was  a  knotty  problem.  His  honest  face,  the  frank  eyes 
with  which  he  looked  straight  into  the  eyes  of  those  who  could  hold  his 
attention  long  enough  to  catch  their  natural  expression,  made  one  feel 
sure  that  slyness  or  underhand  dealing  could  not  be  numbered  among 
his  faults.  The  trouble  seemed  to  be  a  wide  streak  of  perversity,  caus- 
ing a  stubborn  resistance  to  all  attempts  to  tame  him. 

"I  don't  believe  there's  any  good  in  him,"  said  Ned  Brand. 

"Oh,  we'll  not  say  that,"  said  Miss  Janet,  his  Sunday  School  teach- 
er. "The  thing  is  to  get  down  to  the  good.  You  should  have  seen  the 
grace  with  which  he  picked  up  my  bag  the  other  day  when  I  dropped 
in  on  the  sidewalk.    Handed  it  back  to  me  like  any  little  gentleman.'* 

"He  might  have  run  away  with  it,"  admitted,  Ned. 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Janet.  "Now,  if  only  we  could  hold  Peter  doo 
long  enough  to  get  to  the  good  that  must  be  somewhere  in  him.  Don't 
you  think  you  could  get  him  to  come  here?  If  we  could  manage  to  in- 
terest him  at  first,  he  might  keep  on." 

The  boys  promised  to  try,  but  still  with  the  underlying  feeling 
that  there  was  not  much  good  lying  loose  anywhere  in  Peter's  make-up. 

He  came,  but  the  result  was  not  encouraging.  Taking  his  seal 
next  to  the  aisle  he  tripped  up  the  small  boys  who  passed  him.  He 
whispered  loudly,  entered  into  small  scuffles  with  boys  who  sat  near, 
and  made  those  who  were  farther  away  laugh  at  his  grotesque  grimaces. 
Finally,  in  the  moment  in  which  the  teacher  began  to  hope  that  she 
was  engaging  his  attention,  he  got  up  and  stamped  noisily  out  at  the 
door,   giving  a  long,   loud,   whoop  as   he   rushed   away. 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  ?"  said  Ned. 

"But,"  Miss  Janet  said,  "we'll  not  give  him  up  yet." 

So  no  opportunity  for  a  pleasant  word  with  him  was  lost.  It  be- 
came known  that  his  home  life  was  unhappy,  that  he  lived  with  a 
dissolute  father  who  gladly  would  have  taken  him  from  school  and 
put  him  to  work. 

By  degrees  Peter  got  into  a  way  of  listening  for  the  pleasant  words, 
so  rarely  coming  into  his  forlorn  life.  Many  times  he  lingered  about 
the  small  building,  sometimes  with  a  wistful  look  that  led  Miss  Janet 
to  the  belief  that  with  a  little  more  coaxing  he  might  be  persuaded  to 
come  amons:  them.  But  the  boys  who  formed  the  missionary  com- 
mittee headed  by  Ned,  said: 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  487 

"We'll  leave  him  alone  a  little  longer.  All  he  wants  is  a  chance  to 
make  a  disturbance  again." 

Ned  and  Sam,  who  as  time  went  on,  had  constituted  themselves 
staunch  supporters  of  everything  connected  with  the  little  chapel,  were 
one  evening  going  by  it  when  Sam  suddenly  grasped  his  companion's 
arm  with  a  suppressed,  "St — what's  that?" 

On  one  side  of  the  little  bulding  was  an  alley,  now,  in  deep  shadow. 
Through  a  chink  in  the  wall  bounding  it,  they  saw  something  which 
looked  suspicous. 

"What  are  they  up  to?"  said  Ned  below  his  breath. 

"That  is  more  than  I  can  tell,  Ned." 

Two  bbys,  larger  than  themselves,  were  silently  busy  close  to 
the  wall  of  the  building,  piling  up  fragments  of  wood  and  paper.  Ned 
grasped  Sam's  arm  in  excitement,  both  knowing  what  it  meant.  The 
stand  taken  by  the  chapel  people  against  neighboring  saloons  had 
aroused  deep  indignation  among  some  of  the  surrounding  dwellers,  and 
many  threats  had  been  made. 

"Look  here !"  again  whispered  Sam.  In  still  deeper  shadow  stood 
a  boy,  evidently,  like  themselves,  watching  what  was  going  on. 

"That's  Peter,  waiting  to  give  notice  if  anybody  comes.  "Let's  run 
for  the  police." 

But  sooner  than  might  have  been  looked  for,  a  brisk  little  flame 
shot  up  from  the  kersoene-soaked  combustibles. 

"Hurry!  Hurry!"  cried  Sam,  and  both  rushed  to  prevent  the  mis- 
chief. But  the  wall  was  too  high  to  climb  and  they  had  to  run  some 
distance  to  get  around. 

In  those  precious  moments  the  lightly  built  little  structure  might 
have  been  in  serious  danger,  but  for  something  which  caused  the  two 
to  pause  for  a  moment  in  surprise.  For,  eyes  as  quick  as  their  own 
had  caught  the  first  gleam  of  fire,  and  Peter  sprang  forward  with  a 
shriek  which  frightened  the  incendiaries,  who  melted  into  the  dark- 
ness, while  he  threw  himself  on  the  threatening  peril.  Pulling,  stamp- 
ing and  kicking — at  first,  single-handed,  he  fought  bravely.  But  willing 
hands  soon  joined  his,  and  only  a  few  minutes  had  passed  before  the 
three  were  gazing  at  each  other  over  the  subdued  foe. 

"Did  you  get  burned,  Peter?" 

"No,"  growled  Peter. 

"If  it  hadn't  been  for  you  the  whole  thing  would  have  burned  up." 

"Me,  nothing,"  said  Peter  turning  his  back  and  walking  away. 

Once  a  week  those  interested  in  the  exercises  gathered  for  an 
evening  of  a  little  study,  with  a  great  deal  in  the  way  of  songs  and 
games — a  "regular  good  time,"  the  boys  called  it.  As  the  evening 
succeeding  the  attempt  at  burning  the  building  aproached,  a  little  more 
than  the  ordinary  stir  might  have  been  noted.  Pictures  were  hung, 
vines  draped,  and  recitations  studied. 

Ned  and  Sam  had  bound  themselves  to  every  effort  within  human 
means  to  see  that  Peter  should  be  present.     As  the  hour  approached 


488  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

they  *'lay  low'  for  him,  knowing  about  the  time  when  he  would  come 
out  from  his  miserable  home  and  stray  aimlessly,  trying  to  weary  away 
time  before  going  back. 

"We're  going  to  have  a  good  time  tonight,  Pete" — 

''I  know  what  you  mean,"  said  Peter  shortly,  "  but  Fm  none  of 
your  goody  sort." 

**We're  not  that  sort  either.  We're  too  jolly  for  that.  Just  come, 
and  look  on." 

As  the  boys  gathered  later,  Peter  hung  about  those  in  the  rear  and 
did  not  resent  it  when  Ned  offered  a  word  of  kindly  encouragement 

Many  of  the  company  must  have  had  a  sly  understanding,  for  as 
they  crowded  in,  Peter  seemed,  in  spite  of  himself,  to  be  in  their  midst. 
And  in  the  walk  down  the  aisle — how  was  it  that  he  was  getting  nearer 
and  nearer  the  front,  never  suspecting  the  cunning  of  the  concerted 
movement  by  which  others  quietly  fell  back  until  he  found  himself 
among  the  very  foremost. 

He  could  not  help  it,  as  he  still  pressed  on,  until,  before  he 
realized,  he  was  occupying  a  seat  which  he  thought  unpleasantly  prom- 
inent. 

This,  however,  was  soon  forgotten  in  the  interest  of  what  was 
going  on  about  him,  and  he  laughed  and  stamped  with  the  otheri, 
finding  it  good  for  a  while  to  forget  the  troubles  of  his  unhappy  life. 

After  much  of  the  jolly  doings  a  man  began  talking  about  a  boy 
who  had  done  some  good,  brave  thing.  It  did  not  at  first  quite  appear 
what,  but  as  he  went  on,  telling  about  the  kind  of  bqy  of  whom  such 
things  might  be  expected,  Peter  thought  it  would  be  nice  to  be  such 
a  boy.  Faces  grew  brighter,  boys  laughed,  and  clapped  their  hands, 
and  there  was  at  length  a  shriek  of  noisy  enthusiasm  as  the  man  said: 

"We  are  all  proud  to  be  friends  of  this  boy  who  by  his  quicknesb 
in  seeing  a  thing  to  be  done,  and  his  bravery  in  doing  it,  saved  this 
house  from  burning  the  other  night.'* 

And.  could  it  be?  That  compelling  hand  had  urged  him  to  his 
feet,  and  it  was  he  upon  whom  all  those  eyes  were  turning  in  kind 
friendliness,  he  of  whom  such  things  were  being  said  and  such  thoughts 
being  thought. 

"It's  all  a  mistake."  Peter  had  lingered  until  all  this,  and  much 
more  was  over,  and  then,  in  the  quiet,  sought  speech  with  the  man  who 
had  talked  of  him.  "It  sounded  real  good,  but  Fm  not  that  sort  of 
boy." 

A  kindly  hand  was  laid  on  the  boy's  shoulder.  "We  all  like  you. 
And  if  there  was  any  mistake,  you  can  set  it  right  if  you're  not  that  sort 
You  can  be,  you  know." 

"I  will  be,  if  I  can,"  said  Peter  humbly. 


////•  CHILDREN'S  FRIENl,.  48<J 

GOOD  MANNERS. 

How  needful  it  is  that  the  young  should  cultivate  good  manners ! 
They  cost  you  nothing,  and  make  you  many  friends. 

Have  you  ever  noticed  the  difference  in  the  conduct  of  children 
at  the  table  ? 

There  is  a  boy,  who,  when  he  eats,  makes  a  noise  with  his  mouth 
like  a  pig  drinking. 

He  puts  his  knife  into  his  mouth,  and  sometimes  he  licks  it,  and 
then  helps  himself  to  the  butter  with  it. 

He  wipes  his  face  with  his  napkin,  or  the  table-cloth. 

He  fills  his  mouth  with  food,  which  he  swallows  without  chewing. 

When  he  wants  to  be  helped,  he  cries  out  to  some  one,  without 
a  word  of  thanks ;  or,  perhaps,  he  reaches  across  the  table  and  help? 
himself. 

Have  you  ever  seen  this  boy?    He  lives  somewhere,  I  am  very  sure. 

Now,  here  comes  another  boy  to  dinner.  We  will  watch  him.  He 
quietly  takes  his  seat.  He  waits  to  be  helped.  If  he  afterwards 
desires  anything,  he  says,  **Will  you  please  help  me?'*  If  he  does  not 
wish  what  is  offered,  he  says,  "No,  thank  you." 

He  uses  his  knife  to  cut  up  his  food,  which  he  puts  into  his  mouth 
with  his  fork. 

He  eats  slowly  and  quietly,  and  chews  his  food  well. 

When  he  has  finished  he  does  not  tilt  his  chair  back  and  pick  his 
teeth,  nor  leave  the  table  without  asking  to  be  excused,  until  all 
present  are  ready  to  rise. 

He  places  his  knife  and  fork  side  by  side  on  his  plate ;  and,  when 
all  are  through,  he  rises  with  the  rest. 

Which  of  these  boys  do  you  admire  the  more? 

— Selected. 


TWO  WAYS  OF  TELLING  A  STORY. 

In  one  of  the  most  populous  cities  of  New  England,  a  few  years 
since,  a  party  of  lads,  all  members  of  the  same  school,  got  up  a  grand 
sleigh-ride.  The  sleigh  was  a  very  large  one.  drawn  by  six  gray 
horses. 

On  the  following  day,  as  the  teacher  entered  the  schoolroom,  he 
found  his  pupils  in  high  glee,  as  they  chatted  about  the  fun  and  frolic 
of  their  excursion.  In  answer  to  some  inquires  which  he  made,  one 
of  the  lads  gave  an  account  of  their  trip  and  its  various  incidents. 

As  he  drew  near  the  end  of  his  story,  he  exclaimed:  **0,  sir! 
there  was  one  thing  that  I  had  almost  forgotten.  As  we  were  coming 
home,  we  saw  ahead  of  us  a  queer-looking  affair  in  the  road.    It  proved 


I 

( 


490  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

to  be  a  rusty  old  sleigh,  fastened  behind  a  covered  wagon,  proceeding 
at  a  very  slow  rate,  and  taking  up  the  whole  road. 

"Finding  that  the  owner  was  not  disposed  to  turn  out,  we  deter- 
mined upon  a  volley  of  snow-balls  and  a  good  hurrah.  They  produced 
the  right  effect,  for  the  crazy  machine  turned  out  into  the  deep  snow, 
and  the  skinny  old  pony  started  on  a  full  trot. 

**As  we  passed,  some  one  gave  the  old  horse  a  good  crack,  whicli 
made  him  run  faster,  an  old  fellow  in  the  wagon,  who  was  buried  up 
under  an  old  hat,  bawled  out,  *Why  do  you  frighten  my  horse?*  *Whv 
don't  you  turn  out  then  ?'*  says  the  driver.  "So  we  gave  him  more  rous- 
ing cheers.  His  horse  was  frightened  again,  and  ran  up  against  a 
loaded  team,  and,  I  believe,  almost  capsized  the  old  creature — and  so 
we  left  him." 

"Well,  boys,"  replied  the  teacher,  "take  your  seats,  and  I  will  tell 
you  a  story,  and  all  about  a  sleigh-ride  too.  Yesterday  afternoon  a 
very  venerable  old  clergyman  was  on  his  way  from  Boston  to  Salem, 
to  pass  the  rest  of  the  winter  at  the  home  of  his  son.  That  he  might 
be  prepared  for  journeying  in  the  spring,  he  took  with  him  his  wagon, 
and  for  the  winter  his  sleigh,  which  he  fastened  behind  the  wagon. 

"His  sight  and  hearing  were  somewhat  blunted  by  age,  and  he 
was  proceeding  very  slowly;  for  his  horse  was  old  and  feeble,  like 
his  owner.  He  was  suddenly  disturbed,  by  loud  hurrahs  from  behind, 
and  by  a  furious  pelting  of  balls  of  snow  and  ice  upon  the  top  of 
his  wagon. 

"In  his  alarm  he  dropped  his  reins,  and  his  horse  began  to  nin 
away.  In  the  midst  of  the  old  man's  trouble,  there  rushed  by  him,  with 
loud  shouts,  a  large  party  of  boys,  in  a  sleigh  drawn  by  six  horses. 
Turn  out!  turn  out,  old  fellow! — Give  us  the  road  old  boy!— What 
will  you  take  for  your  pony,  old  daddy? — Go  it,  frozen-nose! — ^What's 
the  price  of  oats !' — were  the  various  cries  that  met  his  ear. 

"  Tray  do  not  frighten  my  horse !'  exclaimed  the  infirm  driver. 
Turn  out,  then !  turn  out !'  was  the  answer,  which  was  followed  by 
repeated  cracks  and  blows  from  the  long  whip  of  the  'grand  sleigh,' 
with  showers  of  snow-balls,  and  three  tremendous  hurrahs  from  the 
hoys. 

"The  terror  of  the  old  man  and  his  horse  was  increased,  and  the 
latter  ran  away  with  him,  to  the  great  danger  of  his  life.  He  contrived, 
however,  to  stop  his  horse  just  in  season  to  prevent  his  being  dashed 
against  a  loaded  team. 

"A  short  distance  brought  him  to  the  house  of  his  son.  That  son, 
bovs,  is  vour  instructor;  and  that  old  fellow,  and  old  bo\\  fhat  old  dad- 
rfv.  and  eld  frozcn-nosc,  was  vour  teacher's  father!"     Selected. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  49J 


•MN  A  MINUTE." 

BY  SAIL\H   N.   m'CREERY. 

Whenever  Ned  Staples  was  asked  to  do  an  errand  he  said,  "In  a 
minute!"  He  always  wished  to  finish  his  game,  read  another  page  in 
his  book,  or  fly  his  kite  a  little  longer.  He  forgot  that  he  hindered 
other  people  by  asking  them  to  wait  and  that  it  was  a  very  rude  thing 
to  do.  His  minutes  often  lengthened  into  half  an  hour,  and  sometimes 
he  entirely  forgot  that  he  had  been  asked  to  do  anything.  The  family 
made  up  their  minds  to  break  Ned  of  this  bad  habit,  but  he  knew  noth- 
ing of  their  intentions. 

A  few  days  later  Ned  wanted  his  mother  to  sew  a  button.  "In 
a  minute !"  she  answered,  but  didn't  do  it  for  twenty.  Ned  was  very 
cross  about  it,  for  the  boys  were  waiting  to  play  a  game  of  leapfrog. 

In  the  evening  Ned  asked  his  grandmother  to  tell  a  story.  'In  a 
minute!"  was  the  reply,  and  she  read  on  unmindful  of  the  fact  that 
Ned  was  drumming  impatiently  on  the  windowpane. 

"I  wish  folks  would  do  things  when  they  are  asked!"  muttered 
Ned. 

His  grandmother  smiled.  *'I  just  wanted  to  finish  that  chapter, 
Ned,  and  I  knew  you  wouldn't  mind." 

The  next  day  Ned's  Uncle  planned  to  take  ten  boys  on  a  fishing 
party.  Ned  had  looked  forward  to  the  event  for  two  whole  weeks. 
His  uncle  had  said  that  they  would  start  at  eight  o'clock  and  he  told 
Ned  to  be  up  early.  Ned  was  up  early,  and  he  had  the  fishing  poles 
on  the  hayrack  before  half-past  six. 

Just  five  minutes  before  eight  Uncle  John's  merry  voice  called, 
"All  aboard  for  fishing,  Ned !" 

By  this  time  Ned  was  deeply  interested  in  a  story,  and  he  wanted 
to  see  how  it  ended,  so  he  said,  "In  a  minute!" 

Mr.  Lamb  gave  Ned's  mother  a  knowing  wink  as  he  left  the 
house.  In  a  few  minutes  Ned  picked  up  his  hat  and  started  on  a  run 
for  the  barn.  When  he  reached  there  he  looked  around  in  amazement, 
for  no  Uncle  John  and  no  hayrack  were  in  sight.  He  called  again 
and  again,  but  there  was  no  reply,  then  he  went  back  to  the  house. 
"Where's  Uncle  John?"  he  asked  his  mother. 

"I  suppose  he  has  gone,"  was  the  reply. 

"Gone !    Without  me  ?"  he  exclaimed. 

"My  son,"  said  Mrs.  Staples  kindly,  "your  uncle  told  you  he  was 
ready  to  go.     You  had  nothing  to  do,  but  you  said,  *In  a  minute!"' 

"I  just  wanted  to  finish  my  story,"  sobbed  Ned.    Then  something 
came  into  his  mind  and  he  stopped  crying.    "I  guess  you  are  all  tired 
of  hearing  me  say  *In  a  minute !'  I  am  never  going  to  say  it  again." 
And  Ned's  disappointment  helped  him  to  keep  his  word. 


492  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


COURTESY  AND  SUCCESS. 

"Be  courteous,"  is  an  injunction  as  old  as  the  Bible.  Paul  was 
himself  a  model  of  courtesy,  Christ  has  been  called  '*the  most  perfect 
gentleman."  Courtesy  is  a  grace  that  adorns  the  noblest  and  ennobles 
the  humblest. 

True  courtesy  is  not  self-seeking.  At  the  same  time  when  Raleigh 
cast  down  his  cloak  for  the  foot  of  Queen  Elizabeth  he  was  not 
the  first  or  only  one  who  has  found  it  a  path-way  to  success,  and  for 
this  reason,  if  no  other,  it  were  well  for  every  boy  to  cultivate 
this  grace. 

The  story  is  told  of  the  owner  of  a  nursery  who  was  called  from 
home ;  one  day  during  his  absence,  a  customer  came,  and  finding  two 
boys,  his  inquiry  was  caressly  answered  by  the  oldest,  that  his  father 
was  away,  "didn't  know  when  he  would  be  back."  But  the  other 
jumped  up  at  once  and  followed  him  out  with  a  polite  offer  to  show 
the  stock,  with  the  result  that  the  stranger,  irritated  by  the  manner 
of  the  first  lad  and  on  the  point  of  leaving,  stopped,  examined  the 
nursery,  and  left- an  order  of  such  an  amount  that  the  father  said  to 
his  son  on  returning,  "You  have  sold  the  largest  bill  of  any  this  season." 

On  one  occasion  a  poorly-dressed  boy  of  sixteen  was  riding  on  a 
street-car  when  a  middle-aged  gentleman  entered.  There  was  no  seat 
for  him,  but  he  had  hardly  reached  for  a  strap  to  cling  to  when  the 
lad  was  on  his  feet,  and,  touching  his  hat,  had  politely  offered  his. 
at  the  same  time  picking  up  and  returning  the  cane  the  other  had 
dropped.  Presently,  when  he  had  again  secured  another  seat,  he  yielded 
it  to  a  lady,  and  with  the  same  polite  manner. 

Th  next  day  the  lad,  who  was  a  poor  boy  seeking  employment 
and  sadly  discouraged  that  he  had  been  unable  to  find  any,  was  told 
that  a  certain  firm  intended  enlarging  their  business,  and  hurried 
to  the  place,  only  to  be  answered  by  the  manager  that  no  more  help 
was  needed.  Sorely  disheartened,  he  was  turning  away,  when  the 
same  gentleman  to  whom  he  had  given  his  seat  the  previous  afternoon 
came  out  of  a  private  office.  He  was  the  head  of  the  firm.  Recogniz- 
ing the  boy  and  learning  his  errand,  he  called  the  manager  to  him  and 
said,  "I  want  you  to  make  a  place  for  this  boy.  He  will  be  sure 
to  treat  our  patrons  politely,  and  I  feel  confident  that  he  will  do"  good 
and  faithful  work  for  us." 

And  that  lad,  grown  to  a  man,  and  holding  a  responsible  position 
with  the  firm,  says,  "I  owe  my  pleasant  and  profitable  place  to  some- 
thing that  did  not  cost  me  anything,  and  that  is — courtesy." 

Again,  an  office  boy  had  often  occasion  to  go  into  a  business 
place,  where  he  was  only  known  in  that  way.  One  day  a  clerk  asked, 
"Who  is  that  boy?"  I  always  like  to  see  him  come  in.  He  is  such  a 
gentleman  in  every  way."  The  member  of  the  firm  to  whom  he  had 
spok«^n  answered,  "I  only  know  him  by  seeing  him  come  in  so  often. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  493 

but  I  like  him  very  much.     He  certainly  is  a  gentleman,  boy  though 
he  is,  respectful,  courteous  and  neat." 

A  little  later  this  same  firm  sent  for  the  boy,  and  offered  him  a 
position,  far  better  than  he  had  ever  held.  In  short  they  offered  to 
take  him  and  teach  him  their  business  from  the  bottom  up.  That  boy's 
future  was  also  made  possible  by  his  courtesy. 

Not  long  ago,  it  is  said,  the  Russian  government  sent  two  represen- 
tatives to  this  country  to  place  a  large  order  for  a  certain  kind  of 
machinery,  requiring  great  skill  in  the  manufacture,  and  in  the  making 
of  which  the  Americans  are  their  superiors.  They  first  visited  a  very 
large  and  famous  establishment  in  one  of  our  great  cities,  where  the 
attention  shown  them  was  so  scant  that  they  soon  left.  They  next 
went  to  a  shop  so  much  smaller  that  it  would  have  been  classed  as 
fourth-rate,  but  where  the  manager  received  them  with  the  utmost 
courtesy.  The  result  was  that  this  superintendent  of  the  shop  was 
offered  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  a  year  to  go  to  Russia  and  superin- 
tend similar  work  there.  "A  large  premium,"  was  comment  of  the 
paper  which  published  the  item,  "paid  for  a  little  gracious  courtesy. 

— Selected. 


AN  ASTONISHED  CONDUCTOR. 

"Get  aboard,  old  limpy,'  said  a  pert  conductor  to  an  aged,  plainly 
dressed,  lame  man  standing  on  the  platform,  waiting  for  the  signal 
to  depart ;  "get  aboard,  old  limpy,  or  you'll  be  left !" 

At  the  signal,  the  old  gentleman  quietly  stepped  aboard  and  took 
a  seat  by  himself.  When  the  conductor,  in  taking  up  the  tickets,  came 
to  him  and  demanded  his  fare,  he  replied:  *'I  do  not  pay  fare  on 
this  road." 

"Then  I  will  put  you  off  at  the  next  station." 

The  conductor  passed  on,  and  a  passenger,  who  had  seen  the 
transaction,  said  to  him:     "Did  you  know  that  old  gentleman?" 

"No,  I  did  not." 

"Well,  it  is  Mr. ,the  president  of  this  road." 

The  conductor  changed  color,  and  bit  his  lips,  but  went  on  and 
finished  taking  up  tickets.  As  soon  as  he  had  done  he  returned  to 
"old  limpy,"  and  said: 

"Sir,  I  resign  my  station  as  conductor." 

"Sit  down  here,  young  man.  I  do  not  wish  to  harm  you ;  but  we 
run  this  road  for  profit,  and  to  accommodate  the  public ;  and  we  make 
it  an  invariable  rule  to  treat  every  person  with  perfect  civility,  whatever 
garb  he  wears,  or  whatever  infirmity  he  suffers.  This  rule  is  impera- 
tive upon  every  one  of  our  employees.  I  shall  not  remove  you  for  what 
you  have  done,  but  it  must  not  be  repeated." 

This  is  a  true  story.     The  "old  limpy"  was  the  Hon.  Erastus  Corn- 


494 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


ing,  of  New  York.     He  was  a  member  of  Congress  for  eight  years,  and 
one  of  the  leading  railroad  capitalists  of  the  United  States. 

That  conductor  never  addressed  another  pcCssenger  as  "old  limpy." 
It  is  unsafe  as  well  as  ungentlemanly  to  be  impolite  to  the  poorest- 
looking  stranger.     Many  a  boy  has  started  on  the  straight  road  to 
success  by  gentlemanly  conduct,  while  others  have  made  a  dismal  failure 
because  they  were  rude  and  impolite. — Kind  Words. 


SOME  PANSIES. 


Some  pansies  look  like  poodle-dogs, 

And  some  like  pussy-cats ; 
And  some  have  funny  pointed  ears, 

And  some  have  fluffy  hats ; 
And  some  wear  shining  golden  wigs, 

And  some  wear  blue  and  gray — 
Rut  poodle-dogs  and  pussy-cats 

They  look  like,  every  way! 

— M.  J.  H. 


.^iS 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  495 

A  BAD  EXAMPLE. 

BY  M.  VAN  R.  FRENCH. 

The  ZOO  was  just  a  short  way  from  their  home,  so  mother  was  not 
afraid  to  have  the  children  drive  their  little  friends  over  there  to  look 
at  the  animals,  and  have  luncheon  by  the  beautiful  creek  where  the 
swans  and  pelicans  had  their  homes. 

They  drove  off  merrily,  Roger  thinking  it  great  fun  to  ride  on  the 
pony's  back.  They  drove  through  the  big,  iron  gates  past  the  huge 
cage  where  storks,  herans,  gulls,  ibises,  and  the  pretty  pink  spoonbills 
all  lived  together  so  contentedly,  though  they  did  quarrel  once  in  a 
while  over  the  fish  the  guard  would  throw  into  the  water  for  them. 
"Oh,  whoa,  Jack !  we  want  to  stop  to  see  the  llamas,''  said  Belle.  And 
they  all  tumbled  hurriedly  out  of  the  cart. 

"They're  so  near  the  fence,  let's  feed  them  the  same  as  we  do  the 
deer.^ 

They  gathered  long  grass  and  clover,  but  when  Belle  went  near 
with  a  handful,  just  think  what  that  llama  did  to  her ! 

You  couldn't  think,  I'm  sure,  for  it's  what  only  very  naughty  chil- 
dren do.     It  spit  at  her !     It  really  did ! 

Belle  jumped  back  very  quickly.  "O  Jack,  did  you  see  what  it 
did?  How  very  rude  of  it!  Try  giving  it  your  grass  and  see  if  it'll 
mend  its  manners." 

Very  cautiously  Jack  went  near  and  held  out  a  tempting  bough 
of  clover,  but  he  had  to  jump,  for  it  laid  its  ears  back  and  looked  angrily 
out  of  its  beautiful,  big  eyes,  and  spit  at  Jack,  too. 

"Well,  such  manners!  He's  no  gentleman!  1  remember  now, 
that  father  read  to  us  that  the  South  Americans  used  llamas  in  place  of 
donkeys  and  horses  or  ponies  and  when  they  got  tired  or  angry  they 
would  just  turn  around  and  behave  as  badly  as  they  did  to  Belle." 

"Humph!  I'm  glad  our  pony  has  better  manners  than  that!  But 
come  on  now,  let  us  go  and  have  our  luncheon  and  then  feed  the  swans 
with  the  scraps.  They're  poljte  and  bow  every  time  thev  take  a  mouth- 
ful." 

They  drove  off,  resolved  never  to  do  such  a  rude  trick  as  that 
llama  had  done,  though  it  didn't  know  any  better. 

"ME  TOO." 

To  Mabel,  At  six,  the  distance  between  herself  and  her  eight-year- 
old  sister  Florence  seemed  very  small,  ^o  Frank,  who  lived  next  door, 
and  was  just  going  to  celebrate  his  ter  .i  birthday  with  a  party,  there 
was  a  very  long  stretch  between  eight  and  ten.  Still,  after  thinking  it 
over,  he  had  decided  to  ignore  the  difference  in  age,  and  invite  Florence. 
She  was  so  pretty,  and  besides,  hadn't  she  said  that  he  was  the  nicest 
in--  •'^n  the  ^trert"^ 


496  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

Accordingly,  one  morning,  he  rang  the  bell  at  Mrs.  Thurston's 
door.  Two  little  maids  answered  it,  and  Frank  made  his  errand  known 
to  Florence,  who  received  his  invitation  with  delight.  Neither  of  them 
noticed  that  the  bright  face  of  Mabel  suddenly  disappeared.  Presently, 
her  voice  was  heard. 

"Frank,  did  you  mean  me,  too?'*  she  chirped,  and  waited,  breath- 
less, for  the  answer. 

Poor  Frank!  It  was  a  trying  moment.  He  had  a  tender  heart, 
and  he  could  not  help  seeing  that  the  brown  eyes  were  trying  bravely 
to*  hold  back  some  crowding  tear  drops.     The  struggle  was  short. 

"Why — yes,"  he  said.  **y^s,  if  your  mamma  is  willing." 

Then  the  sunshine  of  smiles  struck  through  her  tears,  and  Mabel 
showed  a  rainbow  face.  "Oh,  well,"  she  laughed,  "then  Fll  come,  for 
she  said  she  was  perfickly  willing  if  you  meant  me,  too." 

Frank  touched  his  cap  and  said  "Good-morning"  in  a  very  manly 
way;  but  instead  of  going  on,  he  went  directly  home  and  straight  to 
his  mother's  room.  He  threw  his  cap  on  the  floor  and  himself  into  a 
chair  beside  her. 

"Mother,"  he  groaned,  "the  party  is  spoiled !  Fve  invited  a  baby !" 
And  he  poured  out  the  story  of  his  trouble. 

It  was  a  beautiful  and  sympathetic  face  that  looked  at  Frank:  a 
tender  hand  that  smoothed  the  ruffled  hair  from  his  forehead,  and  a 
dear  voice  that  said  at  last,  "Frank,  I  want  to  read  you  this  morning's 
message  on  the  calendar  papa  gave  me  at  Christmas  time." 

Together  they  bent  over  it,  her  arm  about  his  shoulders  as  she 
read — 

"Happiness  is  a  perfume  that  one  cannot  shed  over  another  without 
a  few  drops  falling  on  one's  self." 

Then  she  turned  to  Frank.  '*You  see,  dear — you  understand?" 
she  said.  And  into. her  eyes  there  came  a  certain  lovely  look,  which 
Frank  had  never  yet  been  able  to  resist. 

"I  see.  mother,"  he  said,  "and  Fll  tr>M" 

What  a  beautiful  party  it  was,  to  be  sure — with  the  games  and  the 
music  and  the  fun !  Here  and  there  moved  Frank,  his  face  aglow, 
with  always  a  special  smile  for  little  Mabel.  A  word  to  one  and  an- 
other, and  soon  what  seemed  to  be  the  very  best  game  of  all  made 
every  face  bright,  as  all  the  children  there  joined  with  Frank  in  trying 
to  make  one  little  girl  perfectly  happy. 

At  last,  the  dining-room  doors  were  thrown  open,  and  here  was 
a  surprise  even  for  Frank.  What  a  picture  the  table  made !  In  the 
center  was  a  large  bowl  of  red  and  white  carnations.  "  At  every  place, 
laid  diamond-wise,  was  a  Japanese  napkin,  decorated  with  the  same 
brilliant  flower,  while  on  the  plate's  white  surface  lay  one  of  the  spicy 
blossoms.  The  little  white  turnips,  all  the  same  size,  made  cunning 
holders  for  the  red  candles  blazing  before  each  guest. 

It  was  decided  that  the  youniefest  one  there  should  make  the  first 
wish.     It  proved  tc  be  Mabel!     Then,  when  the  beautiful  cake  was 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  497 

brought  in,  they  voted  as  to  who  should  cut  it.  Strangely  enough,  the 
lot  fell  to  Mabel!  But  most  wonderful  of  all,  the  ring,  which  was 
found  in  the  cake  and  tried  all  round  the  circle,  could  only  be  made  to 
fit  on  the  little  third  finger  of  Mabel ! 

When  the  last  pair  of  feet  had  tripped  down  the  carpeted  walk, 
Frank's  mother  turned  to  him. 

"Dear  son!"  was  all  she  said,  but  Frank's  heart  swelled  until  he 
did  not  dare  trust  his  voice,  so  he  gave  her  a  kiss  for  answer. 

Next  door,  a  rosy-cheeked  little  girl,  with  her  arms  around  her 
mother's  neck,  was  saying,  "Oh,  mamma,  it  was  the  loveliest  time !  I 
was  choosed  and  qhoosed,  and  they  all  said  they  wouldn't  think  of  hav- 
ing a  party  without  me,  too." — Selected. 


TABLE  MANNERS. 

We  have  learned  of  various  foods  and  something  of  the  best  ways 
of  cooking  them,  and  yet  there  are  many  other  things  for  us  to  learn 
before  we  can  get  the  most  good  from  a  meal. 

First  the  table  should  be  made  to  look  as  pretty  as  possible.  The 
cloth  should  be  white  and  clean ;  for  a  soiled  cloth  would  not  be  pleas- 
ant to  look  at  while  eating. 

Next  the  very  prettiest  dishes  that  one  can  afford  should  be  used, 
and  placed  in  the  best  order.  Flowers  help  to  make  a  table  look  bright 
and  fresh,  and  should  be  used  if  one  has  them.  The  food  should  be 
made  as  tempting  as  possible  before  bringing  it  to  the  table,  by  arrang- 
ing" it  tastefully  on  the  dishes. 

Now  the  well  set  table  is  not  all  that  should  be  considered.  Those 
who  are  to  sit  at  the  table  should  look  their  best.  There  should  be  no 
soiled  hands  or  faces.  The  hair  should  be  neat  and  the  clothing  clean 
and  tidy.  There  should  be  no  frowning  faces,  sour  tempers,  nor  cross 
words. 

To  say  things  that  hurt  people^s  feelings  is  wrong  at  any  time,  but 
to  say  them  at  the  table  is  doubly  wrong,  for  an  unhappy  state  of  mind 
will  affect  the  work  of  the  stomach. 

Never  tell  unpleasant  news  at  the  table,  nor  talk  about  sickness  or 
death.  We  should  think  up  the  good,  funny  stories  we  hear  or  read  to 
tell  at  the  table.  Those  with  compliments  and  pleasant  jokes  are  good 
table  talk. 

Table  manners,  as  a  rule,  readily  show  whether  or  not  a  person  is 
truly  polite.  There  are  certain  rules  about  eating  that  each  person 
should  learn  while  young,  and  practice  until  they  become  a  habit.  A 
few  of  these  are : 

Never  eat  fast ;  always  wait  to  be  helped ;  never  put  the  fingers 
into  the  mouth;  never  make  a  noise  with  the  mouth  while  eating  or 
drinking;  never  carry  food  to  the  mouth  with  a  knife. 

We  should  know  how  to  handle  our  knife,  fork,  spoon,  and  napkin 


498  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

in  the  proper  way.  We  should  try  to  learn  more  of  table  manners,  and 
practice  what  we  know. 

If  we  are  always  kind  and  thoughtful  of  others,  we  will  show  good 
manners  at  all  times,  and  never  seem  to  see  the  mistakes  of  other  people 
at  the  table  or  elsewhere. 

A  story  is  told  of  a  king  who  once  gave  a  dinner.  At  the  table 
were  two  ladies  who  did  not  know  good  table  manners,  and  they  made 
the  mistake  of  putting  food  into  their  mouths  with  their  knives,  pouring 
the  coffee  from  their  cups,  and  drinking  from  their  saucers. 

Some  of  the  guests  saw  this,  and  began  slyly  to  laugh.  As  soon 
as  the  king  saw  it,  he  began  to  put  food  into  his  mouth  with  his  knife 
and  to  drink  from  his  saucer.  The  other  guests  then  stopped  laughing, 
and  did  the  same. 

The  two  ladies  made  a  mistake,  but  the  guests  who  laughed  made 
a  greater  mistake,  and  were  even  rude.  The  kind  thoughtfulness  of 
the  king  saved  the  two  ladies  from  seeing  they  had  made  a  mistake, 
but  it  would  have  been  much  better  had  they  known  good  table  man- 
ners.— Selected. 


Don 
Don 
friend. 
Don 
Don 
Don 
Don 
Don 
Don 
Don 
Don 
Don 


IF  YOU  WISH  TO  BE  BELOVED. 

t  rudely  contradict  people,  even  if  youVe  sure  you  are  right, 
t  be  inquisitive  about  the  affairs  of  even  your  most  intimate 


t  underrate  anything  because  you  don't  possess  it. 

t  believe  that  everybody  else  in  the  world  is  happier  than  you. 

t  conclude  that  you  have  never  had  any  opportunities  in  life. 

t  believe  all  the  evil  you  hear. 

t  repeat  gossip,  even  if  it  does  interest  a  crowd. 

t  go  untidy  on  the  plea  that  everybody  knows  you. 

t  be  rude  to  your  inferior  in  social  position. 

t  overdress,  or  underdress. 

t  jeer  at  anybody's  religious  belief. 
Learn  to  hide  your  aches  and  pains  under  a  pleasant  smile.    No 
one  cares  whether  you  have  the  earache,  headache,  or  rheumatism. 
Learn  to  attend  to  your  own  business — a  very  important  point. 
Don't  try  to  be  anything  else  but  a  gentleman  or  gentlewomen 
and  that  means  one  who  has  consideration  for  the  whole  world,  and 
whose  life  is  governed  by  the  Golden  Rule :     *'Do  unto  others  as  you 
would  be  ^one  by." — Word  and  Work. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  499 


THE  GODS  SEE  EVERYWHERE. 

The  old  professor  paused  and  leaned  forward  over  his  music  desk, 
baton  in  hand,  regarding  the  rows  of  girlish  faces  before  him.  "I  want 
you  to  feel  ze  music,"  he  said-  "I  want  you  to  mean  it,  every  word. 
You  must  sing  from  ze  heart,  or  you  will  not  have  success.  And  I 
want  you  to  give  me  your  best" — a  smile  flashed  over  his  thin  face.  **I 
want  ze  flowers  of  your  voices,  not  ze  weeds." 

There  seemed  to  be  fire  in  Bess  Templeton's  eyes  as  she  listened, 
with  her  face  upturned  toward  his,  comprehending,  responsive.  Every 
nerve  in  her  tense  little  body  tingled.  She  was  ready  for  his  signal, 
to  sing  with  all  her  might,  with  all  her  heart,  in  her  sweet  voice.  A 
soft  little  voice  it  was, — nobody  ever  was  able  to  hear  it  among  the 
others, — but  although  the  tiny  ripple  of  sound  was  lost  in  the  tide  of 
melody,  she  gave  all  she  had,  careful  that  every  note  should  be  steady 
and  true. 

Again  he  lifted  his  baton,  and  the  trained  young  voices,  soft,  in- 
tense with  earnestness,  rose  and  fell  at  his  behest.  He  led  them  on  to 
the  end,  with  a  shining  face. 

*'Zat  is  ze  way,  young  ladies ;  zat  is  ze  way  I  want  you  to  sing  it  at 
ze  concert.  Forget  ze  people,  forget  yourselves ;  sink  of  ze  music.  But 
ze  fourth  chorus — it  is  ze  difficult  one — you  must  learn  ze  notes  better. 
You  sit  wiz  ze  eyes  on  ze  book,  while  zay  must  be  on  my  face.  You 
must  watch  my  stick." 

Bess  closed  her  book  reluctantly,  and  turned  to  go.  "Isn*t  it  too 
bad  that  I  shall  have  to  miss  all  the  rest  of  the  rehearsals !"  she  said, 
as  she  went  down  the  steps  with  Blanche  Everton  and  Margaret  Blair. 
"Aunt  Fanny  sent  for  me  this  morning ;  her  girl  is  away.  I  shall  b '. 
back  only  just  in  time  for  the  concert." 

"Oh,  well,  it  won't  matter  much,  Bess,"  Blanche  answered,  care 
lessly.     "Nobody  will  hear  whether  you  sing  it  right  or  wrong." 

Margaret  saw  the  flush  that  sprung  to  Bess's  cheek,  and  hastened 
to  slip  a  friendly  hand  into  hers.  "One  voice  among  so  many,"  she 
said,  sweetly.  "It  wouldn't  seem  to  matter  if  it  sang  the  wrong  notes ; 
but  I  suppose  it  does.     It  makes  the  music  less  perfect." 

Bess  turned  a  grateful  face  toward  her.  "I  can't  help  thinking 
what  Longfellow  sang : 


*For  the  gods  see  everywhere' 

"It  makes  me  want  to  do  my  best,  whether  anybody  knows  or  not." 
"And  you  always  do,  you  dear  little  thing,"  said  Margaret,  stop- 
ping for  a  good-night  kiss  at  the  corner  where  Bess  turned  oflF  toward 
Harvey  Street. 

"Isn't  she  an  odd  piece,  though?"  said  Blanche.     "She  just  fits 
that  queer  little  house.     I'm  glad  I  wasn't  born  to  Harvey  Street  and 


500  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

plain  bread  and  butter.  Here  cornes  the  professor.  Let's  wait  and 
walk  with  him." 

All  the  girls  adored  the  old  professor,  notwithstanding  the  fact 
that  his  black  suit  was  always  shabby,  and  that  he  seemed  to  have  worn 
that  same  funny,  fuzzy  silk  hat  from  time  immemorial. 

There  was  something  in  his  fine,  worn  face  that  commanded  even 
the  daring  Blanche,  and  made  them  all  fond  of  fancying  that  he  lived 
on  a  higher  plane  than  common  mortals  do,  in  a  region  where  the  air 
was  filled  with  music  and  dreams. 

For  didn't  he  have  the  loveliest  thoughts,  and  interpret  the  music 
for  them  till  it  was  all  informed  with  light  and  beauty?  They  went 
t>n  with  him  now,  one  on  either  side,  as  if  they  had  been  children,  in* 
stead  of  young  ladies,  as  they  felt  themselves  to  be. 

"The  new  music  is  so  hard !"  drawled  Blanche,  in  her  soft,  indolent 
voice.  "I  wish  you  would  always  let  us  do  easy  choruses  that  we 
shouldn't  have  to  slave  over  so !" 

"It  is  ze  hard  sings  are  good  for  us,''  smiled  the  professor. 

Blanche  made  a  little  face.  "I  never  did  like  to  take  medicine," 
she  said,  saucily.  "I  like  candy  best.  And  there  is  so  much  else 
crowded  into  these  next  two  weeks !" 

Professor  LeBaron  sighed.  "Ah,  Miss  Blanche,  it  is  always  ze 
'much  else!'  If  you  would  all  be  like  ze  one!"  he  added,  wistfully. 
"When  I  am  discouraged,  when  you  sing  ze  notes  wrong,  zare  is  ze  one 
little  face  all  uplift,  all  full  of  ze  light — "  He  flung  out  his  hands  and 
sighed  again. 

"Oh,  do  tell  us  whose  it  is!"  giggled  Blanche.  "I'm  sure  I  always 
like  to  look  at  you,  professor,  only  I  just  have  to  keep  watching  the 
notes." 

"Zat  is  ze  trouble,  Miss  Blanche.  You  have  ze  voice —  and  you. 
Miss  Margaret.  But  it  is  ze  industree,  ze  work — it  is  zat  you  must 
have.     But  no ;  you  make  me  discouraged." 

"We  don't  mean  to  be  careless,"  said  Margaret,  penitently.  "We 
will  try  to  work  harder." 

"Zat  will  please  me,  Miss  Margaret,"  he  answered,  simply:  then 
he  took  off  his  hat  and  bade  them  good  night,  going  on  alone  down  the 
side  street  to  his  shabby  little  rooms,  where  there  was  a  very  big  piano 
and  a  great  deal  of  music,  but  where  there  seemed  to  be  very  little  of 
anything  else. 

Bess  thought  herself  lucky  the  next  day  to  make  half  of  her  eight- 
mile  journey  in  a  farmer's  wagon.  She  had  tucked  her  music  book  into 
a  corner  of  her  satchel,  for  she  knew  there  would  be  odd  times  when 
she  could  practice  the  chonises.  She  would  have  Aunt  Fanny's  melo- 
dcon  to  help  her — such  a  queer,  tiny  mclodeon,  a  trifle  wheezy  now. 
after  fifty  years  of  service.  Its  four  octaves  of  keys  were  worn  and 
yellow,  and  one  was  silent  here  and  there :  still  it  could  help  her  a  little. 

Bess  cherished  for  the  poor  old  instrument  a  whimsical  regard, 
which  dated  back  to  her  babyhood  and  her  first  visit  to  the  farm,  when 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  501 

her  mother  found  her  standing  before  the  melodean,  reaching  up  to 
strike  the  keys  and  trying  to  make  them  sound,  as  she  did  those  of  the 
piano  at  home.  When  they  failed  to  respond,  she  sighed  patiently,  and 
gave  it  a  consoling  pat.  "Never  mind,"  she  told  it.  "When  oo  get 
big,  then  oo  play."  But  the  poor  thing  never  had  grown  any  larger, 
and  every  year  found  it  more  feeble  and  asthmatic.  Even  now  Bess 
could  not  be  impatient  with  it,  but  bumped  industriously  at  the  rattling 
old  pedals,  and  tried  not  to  mind  when,  now  and  then,  its  voice  gave  way 
with  a  sudden  wheeze. 

The  two  weeks  of  her  stay  were  busy  ones,  but  there  was  hardly  a 
day  when  she  did  not  find  time  to  run  over  her  score.  In  that  difficult 
fourth  chorus,  one  page  tried  her  patience  sorely ;  a  change  of  key  and 
tempo,  and  half  a  dozen  accidentals,  made  it  puzzling.  It  seemed  as 
if  she  never  could  master  it ;  but  she  tried  it  over,  day  after  day,  with 
patient  care. 

On  rehearsal  afternoons  it  was  hard  to  be  content,  remembering 
that  the  girls  were  all  singing  together,  with  their  leader's  inspiring 
face  before  them.  It  seemed  lonely  then,  out  there  in  the  wide,  still 
country.  But  at  last  she  was  free,  and  back  in  the  midst  of  it  all,  hav- 
ing her  share  in  the  pleasant  buzz  of  excitement  that  pervaded  Edge- 
wood  as  the  time  for  the  song  festival  drew  near. 

The  professor  had  pressed  and  brushed  his  threadbare  coat  with  his 
own  hands,  shaking  his  head  a  little  dubiously  over  it  when  he  had 
finished;  but  Blanche  herself  pinned  a  white  carnation  in  the  button- 
hole, and  there  was  not  a  girl  among  them  who  did  not  feel  proud  of 
the  shabby  old  professor  when  the  audience  smiled  and  clapped  as  he 
appeared. 

He  wondered  if  they  understood — these  butterfly  girls,  with  their 
flower  faces  and  dainty  gowns — what  it  meant  for  them  to  sing  this 
grand  old  music  that  for  more  than  a  century  had  stirred  the  hearts  of 
men.  Was  it  not  too  much  to  expect  of  them,  with  their  untouched 
hearts  and  unawakened  souls,  waiting  there  on  the  green-wreathed  stage 
for  his  signal  to  begin?  But  as  he  turned  his  face  toward  them,  tlie 
fluttering  of  handkerchiefs  back  and  forth  from  stage  to  audience,  the 
rustling  of  books  and  settling  of  flounces  ceased ;  they  were  hushed, 
ready. 

Bess  was  there ;  her  face  shone  white  above  the  soft  pink  of  her 
IGfown.  Her  dark  eyes  were  full  of  light.  He  could  almost  feel  the 
answering  thrill  that  flashed  through  her  veins  as  her  gaze  met  his, 
both  uplifted,  upheld,  by  the  enthusiasm  of  the  hour. 

A  ouick  lift  of  the  baton  brought  the  singers  to  their  feet.  He 
''^^ent  his  eye  across  their  faces,  with  a  look  of  compelling  appeal.  They 
^rrqthed  forth  the  first  soft  notes:  hushed,  tender,  the  music  rose  and 
fell,  reverent  as  a  praver.  A  slight  flashed  into  his  face ;  he  led  them 
on  and  on,  the  sweet  young  voices  rising  as  the  music  gained  in  inten- 
sity:  leaning  on,  strong  and  s^lad  and  beautiful,  to  the  triumphant  close. 

As  the  music  ceased,  Bess  drew  a  breath  that  was  almost  a  sob. 


502  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

Her  throat  ached  with  the  beauty  of  it ;  she  felt  herself  uplifted,  as  if 
her  spirit  had  found  wings. 

They  came  at  last  to  that  difficult  fourth  chorus,  and  the  professor's 
face  grew  anxious.  Would  they  be  able  to  carry  it  through?  That 
difficult  page — even  at  the  last  rehearsal  they  had  blundered  with  it 
If  Blanche  failed,  that  strong,  leading  voice — if  they  all  failed — but 
they  must  not — they  should  not  fail ! 

He  led  them  out  through  the  opening  measures ;  then  a  low,  minor 
melody  began — the  page  that  followed  was  the  crucial  one.  They 
turned  the  leaf.  Almost  by  main  force,  it  seemed,  he  held  their  voices 
steady  and  true.  But  suddenly  the  whole  line  faltered.  The  music 
wavered,  like  the  wavering  of  a  candle-flame  in  a  breath  of  air. 

Blanche  herself  turned  pale — stopped.  But  one  brave,  sweet,  soft 
little  voice  sang  on,  for  one  brief  moment  absolutely  alone.  Bess  needed 
not  even  to  glance  at  that  difficult  page,  so  familiar  it  was  to  her. 

It  was  only  for  an  instant ;  few  of  the  audience  noticed  the  hesita- 
tion. Then  Blanche's  strong,  grand  voice  caught  up  the  notes  from 
the  little  singer  beside  her,  and  once  again  flung  herself  into  the  music, 
reassured  and  confident,  faltering  no  more. 

When  it  was  all  over,  the  audience  filed  out,  pleased  and  smiling. 
They  were  all  friends  of  the  young  singers,  and  rejoiced  at  their  suc- 
cess. But  Blanche,  coming  upon  Bess  in  a  dim  corner  of  the  dressing- 
room,  put  her  arms  around  her  with  a  little  excited  sob. 

"O  Bess  Templeton,"  she  whispered,  "if  it  hadn't  been  for  you!" 

Bess  opened  her  eyes  wide.  "Me!"  she  said,  softly.  "O  Blanche, 
if  I  could  only  sing  as  you  can !" 

But  the  wonderful  part  of  it  all  happened  next  day,  when  the  pro- 
fessor himself  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  little  house  in  Harvey  Street, 
and  went  in,  holding  his  fuzzy  silk  hat  in  his  hand,  and  bownng  to  little 
Mrs.  Templeton  as  reverently  as  if  she  had  been  a  royal  princess. 

"It  is  about  little  Miss  Bess  I  have  come,"  he  said.  "She  must 
have  ze  music — ze  private  lesson — every  w^eek." 

Mrs.  Templeton*s  gentle  face  flushed  slightly ;  she  opened  her  lips 
to  speak.  "Pardon,  madam;  it  is  not  for  ze  money  I  teach  her;  it  is 
for  my  pleasure.  Ze  rest — zay  not  care;  zay  have  ze  paint,  ze  em- 
broider, ze  dance,  ze  theatre,  ze  beau ;  little  Miss  Bess,  she  have  but 
ze  music.  Look !"  he  cried,  turning  the  girl's  bewildered  face  to\Yard 
her  mother.  "Is  it  not  ze  musical  little  face?  Is  it  not  ze  one  in  all 
my  chorus  zat  respond  to  me?  Zat  answer  every  motion  of  my  stick, 
every  suggestion  of  my  face — almost  my  every  thought?  Ah!  madam, 
last  night  at  ze  concert — ze  audience  did  not  know,  but  I  knew,  madam. 
— she  saved  ze  chorus  from  failing!" 

"As  you  say,  madam,  it  is  not  ze  big  voice.  But  it  is  not  ze  sun- 
flower I  would  have,  no ;  it  is  ze  lily,  ze  violet.  And  Miss  Bess  not 
know — I  teach  her.  I  make  her  a  voice  two  times,  three  times  as  big 
as  now\     Ah,  madam,  my  heart  shall  be  broken  if  you  do  not  permit!" 

He  looked  so  kind  and  so  earnest,  and  yet  so  comical,  as  he  stood 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  '  503 

there  bowing  and  flourishing  his  old  silk  hat,  that  Mrs.  Templeton 
smiled,  although  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"It  has  been  my  daughter's  dearest  wish,"  she  said  tremulously. 
"I  don't  know  how  I  can  thank  you — "  But  the  professor  suddenly 
looked  very  much  bored  and  abashed. 

"Pardon,  madam,"  he  said,  backing  toward  the  door,' "it  is  ze  en- 
gagement I  have — ze  most  pressing  engagement.  And  Miss  Bess,  on 
Tuesdays  at  four,  it  is  zen  I  may  look  for  her  ?"  He  bowed  and  smiled, 
then  hurried  away  before  they  could  find  breath  to  thank  him  further. 

"Zat  engagement  of  his,"  smiled  Bess,  as  the  gate  clicked  behind 
him,  "it  is  all  ze  myth !"  Then  she  turned  and  laid  her  tremulous  face 
against  her  mother's  shoulder,  too  rapturously  happy  to  speak  another 
word. — From  the  Youth's  Companion. 


A  REAL  TRUE  STORY. 

BY  ELIZABETH   R.  DICKERSON. 

"Grandma,  tell  us  a  story,  will  you  ?  Not  one  of  those  'bout  fairies 
you  make  up  as  you  go  along,  'cause  I  think  those  are  really  'bout  us ; 
but  a  real  story,  and  please  don't  end  it  by  asking  if  we  don't  think 
we  ought  to  be  as  good  as  fairies,  seeing  we're  so  much  bigger. 
Please  do,  Grandma." 

Grandma  laid  down  her  knitting  and  rested  her  head  against  the 
back  of  the  chair,  with  her  eyes  shut  and  her  hands  folded.  Gradually 
a  smile  spread  over  her  face,  and  Katharine  knew  her  wish  was 
already  granted. 

"Yes,  dear,  t  will.  Come  and  sit  in  this  chair  with  me,  so  that 
James  and  Sterling  can  draw  their  chairs  nearer,  and  I'll  tell  you  about 
something  that  happened  to  me  when  I  was  as  old  as  your  mother 
is.    How  would  you  like  that?" 

"Fine !"  they  all  cried,  and  Katharine  cuddled  down  at  Grandma's 
side,  feeling  sure  that  this  story  would  be  a  "good  one." 

"But  Grandma,"  asked  Jimmie,  who  said  he  was  going  to  be  a 
soldier  and  play  on  the  big  bass-drum,  "is  it  exciting?" 

"Please  keep  still,  Jimmy,"  inturrupted  Katharme,  "how  can 
Grandma  begin  while  you  are  talking?" 

"Yes,  James,  it  is  very  exciting,  and  I  wished  then  that  I  had 
a  big  boy  with  a  sword  like  yours  to  protect  me.  This  story  is  about 
the  time  when  grandfather  and  I  and  my  sister  Faith  were  visiting  at 
the  old  farm  where  Aunt  Sabrina  and  tjn.cle  Ephriam  lived. 

"One  night  grandfather  sent  word  out  to  us  that  he  and  Uncle 
Ephriam  would  not  come  home  that  night,  for  they  were  going  to 
stay  in  town  on  business.  Just  the  way  your  father  doeis,  don't  you 
know.  Sterling?" 

"Yeth,  Gwandmothah.' 


9> 


504  '  THE  CHILDREN'S  ERIEA'D. 

"Well,  Aunt  Sabrina  was  afraid  to  stay  alone,  but  Sister  Faith, 
who  was  brave  like  James,  said  she  wasn't  frightened,  and  I  thought 
I  wouldn't  be,  so  we  stayed  alone." 

"But,  Grandma,"  said  Katharine,  sitting  up,  "where  were  the  cook 
and  Anna?" 

"Oh,  they  were  both  there,  but  they  slept  in  the  third  story  and 
were  more  afraid  to  be  alone  than  we  were,  for  it  was  lonesome  in  that 
old-fashioned,  many-roomed  house.  The  windows  could  be  reached 
from  the  ground,  you  see,  and  there  were  so  many  dark  comers.  Wc 
three  went  around  together  and  carefully  locked  all  the  windows  and 
dorrs,  and  then  went  to  bed.  But  I  mustn't  forget  to  tell  you  one 
thing  that  belongs  to  the  story.  Aunt  Sabrina  had  a  bad  cold  and  had 
lost  her  voice."  "Where  did  thee  looth  it,  Gwandmothah  ?"  Stirling 
inquired  seriously. 

"That  means,  Sterling,  that  she  couldn't  talk  out  loud,  but  could 
just  whisper.  Well,  I  had  just  dozed  off  into  a  light  sleep,  when  a 
fearful  pounding  on  the  back  door  made  me  start  up  in  bed.  Aunt 
Sabrina,  in  nightcap  and  night  dress,  was  already  in  our  room,  saying 
in  a  tragic  whisper,  'Don't  you  hear  that  noise?  I  fear  some  one  is 
trying  to  break  in?'  Sister  Faith  and  I  listened  and  once  more 
heard  a  great  commotion  at  the  back  of  the  house.  Going  into  the 
hall,  we  found  two  servants  already  there  trembling  with  fear.  The 
noise  would  stop  for  awhile,  and  then  a  pounding  and  a  thumping 
would  come  which  fairly  seemed  to  shake  the  house. 

"Wc  decided  that  when  we  were  sure  the  burglars  were  really 
in  the  house,  I  should  jump  out  on  the  roof  of  the  front  porch  and 
scream  for  help.  Just  then  a  terrific  pounding  came,  and  we  thought 
the  back  door  had  been  broken  in.  I  was  on  the  roof  in  a  second, 
screaming  as  hard  as  T  could.  Aunt  Sabrina  kept  saying  in  her  awe- 
struck  whisper,  'My  dear,  you  have  a  fine  voice  for  screaming,  a  fine 
voice  for  screaming.' 

"After  a  few  minutes  I  heard  an  answering  call,  and  two  men 
came  running  down  the  road  offering  to  assist  us.  But  how  to  get 
them  inside?  For  we  were  all  afraid  to  go  down  and  open  the  front 
door.  While  we  were  trying  to  think  up  some  way,  the  men  had 
climbed  up  the  pillars  of  the  porch  and  were  ready  to  go  downstairs. 

"W'^  went  quietly  down  the  dark  stairway,  the  men  first  and  we 
three  following.  The  men  were  armed,  but  we  each  carried  a  hat  pin, 
and  Sister  Faith  had  a  poker  too.  Through  the  dining-room  we  went, 
then  softly  opening  the  kitchen  door,  what  do  you  think  we  saw? 

'Whit?"  the  three  asked,  their  eves  like  saucers. 
All  the  milk-pans  were  on  the  floor,  and  a  ba^^ket  of  potatoes 
which  had  stood  on  a  shelf  near  the  door  had  been  o"ver-tumed,  but 
the  door  was  whole  and  locked.  The  pounding  still  kept  up,  so  one 
of  the  men  carefullv  opened  the  door  and  saw — not  an  awful  masked 
bii^p-lar  ^^''t  tl»^  rA<\  T^r^o^-  '^ow  vhich  Pat  had  forgotten  to  milk  that 
night.    We  could  hardly  believe  our  eyes,  but  there  she  stood,  and  had 


(t 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  505 

been  pounding  on  the  door  with  her  horns  to  remind  us  of^  forgotten 
duties. 

"Oh,  Grandma,"  they  cried  again,  somewhat  reproachfully. 

"My  dears,"  and  the  old  lady  smiled  again,  ''that's  a  true  story. 
But  old  Buttercup  v/as  the  only  cow  I  ever  saw  that  knew  enough  to 
do  that.     Yes,  it's  a  true,  a  real  true  story." 


ON  THE  PECULIARITIES  OF  LUCK 

Johnny  Powers  came  home  last  week  from  Nebraska,  where  he 
had  been  making  a  long  visit  at  his  uncle's.  Johnny's  folks  live  across 
the  street  from  Otis,  and  Ot  had  a  story  for  us  last  meeting  night. 

"I  tell  you,"  he  said,  "some  fellows  have  all  the  luck.  Johnny 
Powers  prevented  an  awful  wreck  out  in  Nebraska,  just  'cause  he 
happened  to  be  around  at  the  time.  Nothing  like  that  ever  happens  to 
me,  whether  I  go  visiting  or  stay  home." 

"I  don't  believe  in  luck,"  said  Billy. 

"You  don't  hey?  But  this  is  a  sure-enough  case,  my  wise  friend. 
You  see,  Johnny's  big  cousin  Fred  is  night-operator  at  Maple  Valley 
station.  Johnny  used  to  go  with  him  lots  of  nights,  because  he  liked 
railroading. 

One  night  Fred  went  into  the  dark  baggage-room  and  stumbled 
over  the  plat-form  scales.  He  hit  his  head  on  a  barrel  as  he  fell,  and 
it  stunned  him.  Johnny  was  scared  but  he  tried  hard  to  bring  him 
round.  While  he  was  working  over  him  he  suddenly  realized  that 
somebody  had  been  calling  Maple  Valley  over  the  wires  nearly  all  the 
time  since  Fred  fell.  You  see,  Johnny  knew  a  little  about  telegraphy, 
and  recognized  the  station  call.     He  left  Fred,  and  answered. 

It  was  the  train-dispatcher  at  Fort  Morton,  and,  what  do  you 
think?  The  east-bound  passenger  and  an  extra  west-bound  freight 
were  headed  toward  Maple  Valley,  and  neither  of  them  had  orders  to 
stop.  Somebody  had  made  a  mistake,  and  the  dispatcher's  message 
told  Maple  Valley  to  flag  both  trains,  or  there  would  be  the  worst 
kind  of  trouble.  Johnny  left  Fred  to  come  to  by  himself,  grabbed  up 
a  couple  of  lanterns  and  lit  them,  and  rushed  out,  wondering  how 
to  get  both  trains.  He  wasn't  long  deciding.  He  put  one  lantern  in 
the  middle  of  the  main  track  to  stop  the  freight,  and  then  raced  over 
the  ties  to  the  river  curve  to  flag  the  passenger.  Of  course,  you  know 
the  rest.  Fred  was  coming  to  when  Johnny  came  back  on  the  express. 
There  was  a  vote  of  thanks  from  the  passengers,  and,  later  a  nice 
letter  from  the  company,  with  a  hundred-dollar  check  in  it.  Wasn't  that 
great  luck?" 

"Don't  you  wi*h  you  had  been  there  instead  of  Johnny,  Ot?" 
Billy  out  the  question  with  that  old  queer  look  of  his,  but  Otis  never 
saw  it. 


506  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

"Sure  I  do,"  he  answered,  confidently.  "I  guess  Fve  got  a 
place  to  |Tut  that  hundred  dollars." 

"I  don't  quite  see  where  the  check  would  come  in,"  said  Billy,  as 
though  he  were  studying  about  it.  "If  you  had  been  there,  how*d 
you  know  that  those  trains  were  coming  head  on  to  each  other?" 

"Why,  Vd  have — a — well,  I  declare,  I  never  thought  of  that!  Guess 
I  wouldn't  have  amounted  to  much,  unless  I  understood  telegraphy. 
But  Johnny  was  lucky,  after  all,  for  he  had  a  cousin  to  teach  him  how 
to  use  the  instruments." 

"No,  my  son,"  said  Billy,  in  his  preaching  way.  "There's  no  luck 
about  it  at  all.  Johnny  had  just  the  knowledge  that  was  needed,  when 
it  was  needed  in  a  hurry.  You  see,  there's  no  time  to  learn  telegraphy 
when  two  trains  are  fixing  for  a  head-on  collision,  and  don't  know  it 
Johnny  spent  a  month  or  two  in  learning  just  enough  to  make  hira 
ready  for  that  busy  five  minutes." 

"I  agreed  with  Billy,  of  course,  but  I  wanted  to  let  Otis  down 
easy.  So  I  said :  "That's  all  right ;  but  after  all,  it  was  just  a  happen- 
so  that  Johnny  was  on  hand,  and  that  his  cousin  fell  and  fainted  just 
at  that  particular  time  on  that  particular  night.  Suppose  he  hadn't 
fallen.  Then  he  would  have  flagged  the  trains  in  the  regular  way. 
Suppose  he  had  fallen  where  Johnny  couldn't  have  heard  the  telegraph 
instrument.  Suppose  Johnny  hadn't  gone  to  the  station  that  night  at 
all?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Billy,  promptly.  "There's  a  lot  of  things  that 
a  fellow  can't  control.  But  nobody  ever  learns  anything  useful  without 
getting  plenty  of  chances  to  use  it.  And,  what's  more,  he  can  always 
see  the  chance  when  it  comes.  The  boy  who  isn't  prepared  passes 
it  by,  and  never  knows  he  has  missed  an  oportunity.  If  one  of  us  had 
been  in  that  station  that  night  we'd  probably  be  able  to  tell  a  great 
story  about  a  railroad  wreck,  but  it  would  never  occur  to  us  that  we 
might  have  prevented  it." 

"Do  vou  mean  that  everybody  ought  to  know  telegraphy?"  asked 
Otis.  "That  sort  of  argument  would  keep  us  all  busy  learning  every- 
thing on  the  bare  chance  that  we  might  be  able  to  use  it  some  day." 

''No,  no,"  protested  Billy.  "Not  that.  But  don't  call  it  luck  when 
a  fellow  has  a  great  opportunity,  and  is  ready  for  it.  It  would  be 
luck  if  the  fellow  who  wasn't  ready  could  do  as  well  as  the  one  who 
was.    "But  he  can't  ever." — Selected. 


BRINDLE'S  VISIT. 

BY   C.   B.   BRYANT. 

"Come  Marjorie,"  called  Aunt  May;  "you  and  Helen  run  in  now 
and  get  warm,  and  I  will  tell  you  a  story." 

The  children  had  been  building  a  snow  man  in  front  of  the  house. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  507 

and  were  cold  and  wet,  so  they  said  good-by  to  their  white  figure 
and  promised  to  finish  him  later. 

When  they  were  curled  up  snug  and  warm  on  the  sofa  Aunt  May 
picked  up  her  mending  and  began. 

"Last  summer  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Rice  and  your  uncle  and  I  went 
camping  in  the  country.  We  had  a  tent  and  oil  stove,  and  cots  to 
sleep  on,  also  a  table  made  out  of  a  dry  goods  box.  For  chairs  we 
used  the  boxes  which  had  contained  our  provisions." 

"How  funny!"  said  Marjorie. 

"Did  you  have  a  table  cloth?"  Helen  asked. 

'*Yes,  Mrs.  Rice  brought  one,  but  it  met  an  untimely  end.  One 
morning  Mrs.  Rice  and  I  went  berrying  and  picked  two  quarts  of  big 
raspberries  while  the  men  went  oflF  fishing.  Those  berries  were  deli- 
cious, so  we  decided  to  save  them  for  supper.  After  dinner  we  washed 
the  dishes,  tidied  up  the  tent,  and  set  the  table  for  tea.  We  lined 
the  bowl  with  large  green  leaves  and  filled  it  with  the  berries;  they 
looked  so  pretty  that  we  left  the  bowl  on  the  table  for  a  centerpiece. 
All  four  of  us  were  going  for  a  long  walk,  and  we  were  anxious  that 
everything  sjiould  be  in  readiness  for  the  evening  meal  when  we  re- 
turned. The  camp  was  so  far  away  from  anv  people  excepting  one 
farmer,  who  was  our  friend,  that  we  gave  no  thought  to  fastening  the 
tent;  instead  we  tied  one  flap  of  the  tent  back  before  starting  to  let 
in  the  air.  The  day  was  perfect  and  we  walked  a  mile  or  more ;  then 
climbed  a  high  hill  to  get  a  view  of  Roods  Creek,  as  it  tumbled  over 
rocks  down  the  hill-side  to  the  Delaware  River.  The  daisies  and  black- 
eyed  Susans  were  everywhere  so  inviting  that  Mrs.  Rice  and  I  stopped 
to  pick  large  bouquets.  The  sun  was  fast  sinking  toward  the  horizon 
when  we  started  for  the  camp  that  we  now  called  home.  As  we 
trudged  along  the  thought  of  those  delicious  berries  was  uppermost 
in  our  minds,  and  we  found  ourselves  imagining  how  good  they  would 
taste  with  homemade  bread  and  butter  and  rich  Jersey  cream  that 
our  neighbor  provided. 

"As  we  came  in  sight  of  the  camp  we  thought  we  could  see  some- 
thing moving  by  the  tent  door.  It  was  impossible  in  the  dusk  to  tell 
wheth'-r  it  was  man  or  beast,  but  it  seemed  big  and  ungainlv.  What 
couH  't  be?  Closer  and  closer  we  crept,  as  silently  as  possible.  When 
we  reached  the  door  the  bulky  form  had  disappeared,  and  in  its  place 
swung  a  cow's  tail  from  between  the  flaps  of  the  tent.  Bossy  had 
worked  her  way  inside,  until  now  she  was  monarch  of  the  place.  The 
bowl  of  berries,  our  pretty  centerpiece,  was  scattered  on  the  floor 
and  the  leaves  had  disappeared.  Knives,  forks,  and  spoons  were 
strewn  about  like  playthings,  while  a  loaf  of  bread  lay  nearby  half 
chewel.  But  worst  of  all  was  our  snow-white  tablecloth ;  the  unwel- 
come vis- tor  had  pulled  it  half  of?  the  table,  and  stood  there  contentedly 
chewing  one  corner  as  though  it  were  her  own  cud.  I  was  so  disap- 
pointed about  the  berries  that  T  almost  cried,  but,  fortunately,  the  funny 
side  of  Tt  cimc  to  us  all  suddc^nlv  and  everyone  broke  out  laughing. 


508  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

"Just  then  Farmer  Hayes,  our  neighbor,  appeared  and,  seeing 
our  pHght,  joined  in  the  merriment.  It  did  not  take  him  long  to 
rescue  what  was  left  of  the  tablecloth,  and  then  he  proceeded  to  back 
.  her  majesty  out  of  the  tent. 

"  *Now  you  must  all  come  over  to  our  house  to  supper,'  said  he.  *I 
picked  a  lot  of  raspberries  myself  this  afternoon,  and  we  shall  try  to 
give  you  supper  that  will  be  pretty  nearly  as  good  as  the  one  my  old 
cow  has  spoiled.  I  will  run  along  and  tell  my  good  wife  that  you  are 
coming  and  you  must  be  on  hand  in  half  an  hour.* 

"With  that  he  was  off  over  the  field  as  fast  as  he  could  go.  We 
were  a  light-hearted  party  as  we  followed  soon  afterward.  What 
cared  we  if  Bossy  had  eaten  our  supper  when  we  had  a  friend  at  hand 
who  was  ready  to  give  us  one  still  better. 

"My,  how  good  that  supper  tasted!  Mrs.  Hayes  expected  us  to 
eat  a  lot,  and  we  did  not  disappoint  her.  The  walk  and  the  late  hour 
had  sharpened  our  appetites.  We  stayed  all  the  evening  and  sat  on 
the  cozy  porch  in  the  moonlight  telling  stories  and  singing. 

"As  we  bade  our  friends  good  night,  Mr.  Hayes  said  he  almost 
wished  old  Brindle  would  scatter  our  supper  again  some  other  day.*' 


"CHIC'S"  STEPMOTHER. 

"Chic*'  had  never  been  a  bad  boy,  and  there  was  no  reason  out- 
side of  the  story-books  why  he  should  begin  now,  just  because  a  sweet- 
natured  woman  had  come  to  mother  him  and  his  two  little  sisters; 
but  Chic  could  not  see  it  in  that  way.  He  knew  about  stepmothers,  how 
they  told  tales  in  whispers,  and  poisoned  the  hearts  of  kind  fathers 
against  their  own  children,  so  he  decided  to  have  his  fling. 

The  first  thing  he  did  was  to  go  down  to  Jim  Harding's  one 
evening  after  dinner  and  stay  until  eleven  o'clock.  That  was  as  far  as 
he  really  planned.  It  was  no  fault  of  his  that  the  cable  broke,  and  that 
he  finally  reached  home  at  one  o'clock  of  a  cold  Winter  morning,  to 
discover  that  the  latch-key  with  which  his  father  had  entrusted  him  a 
few  days  before  had  disappeared  from  his  pocket. 

Here  was  trouble.  The  house  was  dark  and  silent,  and  Chic  knew 
that  his  father,  called  from  his  slumbers  at  that  hour  to  admit  a 
twelve-year-old  son,  would  need  no  stepmother's  prompting,  but  would 
be  quite  capable  of  acting  for  himself.  With  this  in  mind,  instead  of 
ringing,  he  discreetly  prowled  round  the  house  in  search  of  a  base- 
ment window  that  he  could  force.  He  found  one  at  last,  opening  over 
the  coal-bin ;  but  the  door  leading  up-stairs  was  securely  barred,  and 
at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  a  dejected  boy  lay  down  on  the  cement 
floor,  with  feet  propped  again<?t  the  furnace,  and  fell  sadly  asleep,  to 
dream  of  the  things  an  irate  father,  egged  on  by  a  stepmother,  wouUl 
do  to  him  in  the  morning. 

The  next  minute  it  was  daylight,  and  a  pleasant  voice  close  to 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  509 

him  was  sa)ang,  "Oh,  James,  look!  On  that  cold  floor  all  night! 
He  must  have  forgotten  his  key.  I  saw  it  on  his  dressing-table  when 
I  went  in  this  morning.  And  we  closed  the  house  so  early !  He  did 
it  for  me,  James,  I  know  he  did.  You  spoke  at  dinner  about  my 
headache,  and  he  wouldn't  distrub  me  by  ringing;  but  I  couldn't  have 
slept  a  wink  if  I  had  dreamed  he  was  down  here.  He's  waking 
up,  James." 

"There,  son,  there!"  said  Chic's  father,  with  unheard-of  gentle- 
ness, as  he  helped  the  astonished  boy  to  his  feet.  *Tretty  hard  bed, 
wasn't  it?  You  might  have  rung,  my  boy,  I'm  proud  of  you  for  being 
so  thoughtful.    Wash  up  now  and  come  to  breakfast." 

With  that  he  started  up-stairs,  but  Chic,  still  blinking,  stood  and 
stared  at  his  stepmother.  Could  it  be — was  she  really  so  innocent, 
or — 

"To  think,  Chic,"  she  was  saying,  softly — and  there  was  a  look 
on  her  face  that  made  him  remember  his  own  mother — "I  was  afraid 
you  didn't  like  me !" 

"Pooh!"  he  answered,  with  a  sudden  big  lump  in  his  throat. 
"I  guess  I  do!" — Youth's  Companion. 


EVIDENTLY  OF  NO  USE  TO  HIM. 

The  habit  of  being  "just  a  little  late"  on  all  occasions,  when  once 
formed,  is  hard  indeed  to  break.  It  was  not  long  ago  that  the  Emperor 
of  Germany  administered  a  rebuke  to  a  delinquent  which  ought  surely 
to  have  brought  about  the  desired  effect. 

For  some  time,  says  an  English  paper,  he  noticed  that  his  barber 
came  always  a  few  minutes  late.  Finally  the  emperor  gave  the  delinq- 
uent a  gold  chronometer,  and  urged  him  to  use  it. 

Strangely  enough,  the  barber  continued  to  be  late,  and  after  wait- 
ing in  vain  for  signs  of  improvement,  the  emperor  said  to  him  at  last : 

"Have  you  that  chronometer  I  gave  you?" 

"Yes,  your  majesty,  here  it  is,"  replied  the  barber,  taking  it  from 
his  pocket. 

"Give  it  to  me,"  said  the  emperor.  "It  is  evidently  of  no  use 
to  you,  and  you  may  have  this  one  instead." 

So  saving,  he  placed  the  handsome  gold  chronometer  on  his 
dressing-table,  and  handed  the  amazed  barber  a  nickel-plated  watch 
worth  about  five  shillings. — Selected. 


"I  love  my  Bepas,  (Grandpas,)  and  Mama,  (Grandma)  too.  And 
Papa,  my  dear  Papa!  You  know  how  1  love  you.  When  I  am  cross 
and  need  to  rest,  and  still  my  eyes  will  peep,  my  Papa  is  ihe  besl  o( 
all  to  help  me  go  to 
sleep.  I  love  my  teddy- 
bear  and  horse,  my 
kitty  and  my  doll.  My 
aunts  and  uncles,  cous- 
ins, friends,  I  am  sure 
I  love  them  all.  But  O, 
my  Mama  is  the  dear- 
est thingi  She  Kelps 
me  to  learn  to  talk  and 
dance  and  sing.  She 
gives  me  fruit  and 
cake  so  nice  and  sweet 
and  all  I  want  or  need 
that's  good  to  eat. 
She  makes  my  clothes 
and  keeps  me  neatly 
dressed  —  O  if  you 
knew  my  mama  dear, 
you  would  love  her 
best!"     This  is  Baby 

Afton's  song;  low  her  voice,  but  sweet  and  strong.  September  in  the 
months  counts  nine,  you  know,  and  Afton  was  bom  in  it  two  yesrs 
ago.  Father  in  heaven,  please  keep  Afton's  song,  still  sweet  and  clear, 
and  glad  and  strong. 

-L.  LULA  GREENE  RICHARDS 


JUST  FOR  FUN. 


CONUNDRUMS. 

If  you  fell  into  the  water  what  fish  would 
you  like  to  see  coming  toward  you?-  Succor 
(sucker). 

If  it  came,  what  other  fish  would  be  likely 
to  bring  it?    A  dory. 

What  king  always  goes  on  foot?  Stock- 
ing. 

What  boys  live  under  water?  Sea-urchins. 

How  do  pillows  differ  from  a  pair  ol 
scales?  The  one  that  is  down  is  always  the 
lightest. 

A  COMPARISON. 


Love's  an  umbrella 
We  borrow  from  fate ; 

Keeps  off  the  showers 
Of  greed  and  of  hate. 


Then,  to  continue 
The  simile  stern. 

Many  who  take  it 
Forget  to  return. 


— New  York  Sun. 


A  MONOPOLY. 

A  woman  once  asked  a  little  girl  of  five  if  she  had  any  brothers. 
"Yes,"  said  the  child.     "I  have  three  brothers.'' 
"And  how  many  sisters,  my  dear?"  asked  the  woman. 
"Just  one  sister,  and  I'm  it,"  replied  the  little  girl. — The  Little 
Chronicle. 

A  small  boy,  suffering  from  eating  too  many  hard  apples,  sat  under 
a  tree  in  a  farmer's  orchard,  doubled  up  with  pain.  The  farmer,  a 
kindly  man,  and  a  recent  convert  to  Christian  Science,  asked  the  trouble. 

"O,  I  ache  so  in  my  stomach,"  said  the  youngster. 

"No,  you  don't  either,"  remonstrated  the  follower  of  Mrs.  Eddy. 
"You  only  think  you  do." 

"That's  all  right  for  you  to  think,"  said  the  boy,  "but  I've  got 
inside  information." — The  Expositor. 


OFFICERS'  DEPARTMENT 


INSTRUCTIONS  TO  PRIMARY  OFFICERS. 

ORGANIZATION. 

When  a  Primary  Association  is  to  be  organized  in  any  ward, 
the  Bishopric  confers  with  the  Presidency  of  the  Stake  as  to  the  advisa- 
bility of  such  action.  The  latter  may  suggest  names,  but  it  is  the 
right  of  the  Bishopric  to  choose  and  appoint  the  officers.  In  consul- 
tation with  the  Primary  Stake  Presidency,  the  details  of  the  organ- 
ization are  arranged,  and  the  sister  who  is  to  preside  is  usually  given 
a  voice  in  the  selection  of  her  counselors  and  aids.  Every  officer, 
from  president  to  aid,  should  be  set  apart  by  the  Priesthood,  in  order 
that  she  may  have  the  blessing  of  the  Lord  to  sustain  her  in  her  calling, 
and  sense,  to  the  fullest  degree,  the  responsibilities  of  her  position. 

At  the  first  meeting  of  the  association,  when  officers  and  members 
are  called  together  to  sustain  the  appointments,  the  Stake  President 
of  the  Primary  Association  should  be  present,  and  if  necessary,  direct 
the  proceedings. 

At  the  death  or  release  of  a  president,  all  officers  are  released 
except  secretary  and  treasurer.  In  order  that  the  work  may  go  on 
without  interruption,  however,  all  officers  continue  in  service  until  a 
reorganization  is  effected.  The  secretary  and  the  treasurer  retain 
their  positions  until  an   emergency   requires  their  release. 

The  president  presides  at  all  official  meetings  of  the  association, 
but  sometimes  invites  another  to  conduct  the  exercises.  In  the  ab- 
sence of  the  president  the  first  counselor  should  preside,  and  in  her 
absence  the  second  counselor.  If  all  three  of  the  presidency  are  away, 
the  presiding  authority  rests  with  the  secretary,  who  may  either  con- 
duct the  exercises  herself  or  appoint  an  aid  to  do  so. 

Stake  President. — This  officer  is  chosen  by  the  Priesthood— the 
presidency  of  the  stake,  in  consultation,  if  possible,  with  a  member  of 
the  General  Board.  She  should  be  spiritually  minded,  conscientiou'^. 
energetic  and  self-sacrificing,  quick  to  percieve,  and  tactful  in  speech 
and  manner.  Her  duties  are  many,  varying  according  to  local  con- 
ditions  and   needs,   but   may   be   generalized   as    follows: 

First. — To  preside  and  have  watchcare  over  all  the  associations 
in   her  stake,   and   sec  that  each   is   completelv  organized. 

Second. — To  carry  out  the  instructions  of  the  General  Board  in 
every  particular,  if  possible,  in  the  conduct  of  all  branches  of  work 
outlined. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  513 

Third. — To  attend,  in  person  or  by  representative,  all  general  con- 
ferences of  the  Primary  Association,  expenses,  if  necessary,  to  be  paid 
from  the  stake  treasury. 

Fourth. — To  arrange  for  all  stake  board  meetings  and  preside  over 
them;  also,  all  meetings  of  stake  and  local  officers.  Stake  Board 
meetings  should  be  held  as  often  as  the  need  for  co-operative  planning 
becomes  apparent.  Weekly  meetings  are  sometimes  necessary  in  order 
that  business  matters  may  not  consume  the  time  required  for  the  study 
of  the  outlines.  All  lessons  should  be  thoroughly  studied  and  dis- 
cussed by  stake  officers  before  they  are  taken  up  in  the  ward  organ- 
izations, and  the  president  should  encourage  her  associates  to  be  pre- 
pared to  answer  any  questions  that  may  be  put  to  her  by  a  local  officer 
in  regard  to  them.  Meetings  of  stake  and  local  officers  should  be  held 
once  a  month. 

Fifth. — To  visit  the  local  associations  in  her  stake  as  often  as 
possible,  in  order  that  the  officers  may  come  in  closer  touch  with  her, 
and  that  she  may  learn  the  needs  of  each  association.  Visits  to  distant 
wards  should  be  made,  at  least,  annually ;  to  those  near  at  hand  monthly 
visits  may  suffice. 

Sixth. — ^To  see  that  all  reports  are  prepared  and  promptly  for- 
warded, minutes  recorded,  treasurer's  accounts  accurately  kept,  and 
affairs  in  general  managed  wisely  and  well. 

Seventh. — ^A  president  who  expects  to  be  absent  from  her  post  of 
duty  for  an  extended  time,  should  consult  with  the  presiding  priesthood 
as  to  the  advisability  of  retaining  her  position.  The  organization 
should  not  be  left  without  an  authorized  leader. 

At  the  right  and  left  of  the  president  stand  her  two  counselors. 
They  should  be  chosen  with  prayerful  wisdom,,  acting  always  under 
the  guidance  of  the  stake  priesthood  and  the  General  Board.  In  all 
matters  pertaining  to  the  interests  of  the  organization,  counselors 
should  be  honored  in  their  position  and  consulted  frequently.  A  coun- 
selor presides  only  in  the  absence  of  the  president,  but  as  an  act  of 
courtesy  she  may  be  invited  to  conduct  a  meeting. 

Whenever  necessity  arises  for  a  change  in  the  conduct  of  any 
organization,  or  when  new  features  are  proposed  for  introduction,  the 
matter  should  be  carefully  considered  by  the  board  as  a  whole,  in 
order  that  all  rules  adopted  and  all  conclusions  reached  may  be  by 
common  consent. 

When  a  vacancy  is  to  be  filled,  or  a  new  officer  is  needed  in  the 
association,  the  name  of  the  sister  selected  by  the  Primary  Board 
should  first  be  submitted  to  the  Tiriesthood — to  the  stake  president 
if  it  be  a  stake  officer,  or  to  the  bishop  if  a  local  officer,  and  he  will 
call  her  to  the  position  she  is  to  occupy.  This  order  of  procedure 
is  necessary  to  the  welfare  of  auxiliary  organizations,  so  that  indi- 
vidiuals  may  not  be  overburdened  with  duties,  and  that  each  may  feel 
the  support  that  comes  from  being  called  by  the  priesthood. 

The  president  should  see  that  the  general  secretary  is  notified  as 


1 


514  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

to  the  time  and  place  for  holding  all  conference  or  convention  meetings, 
and  should  make  provision  for  the  entertainment  of  representatives 
from  the  General  Board.  The  General  President  of  the  Primar\- 
Association  should  be  notified  of  the  release  of  a  stake  president,  and 
the  same  rule  applies  to  a  similar  notice  from  a  local  to  a  stake 
officer. 

The  duty  of  providing  entertainment  and  accommodations  for  visi- 
tors from  out  of  town  districts  devolves  upon  the  members  of  the 
stake  board,  who  should  work  harmoniously  and  diligently  with  the 
president,  exercising  a  thoughtful  interest  in  all  the  organizations  under 
their  jurisdiction. 

Local  Presidents. — The  duties  of  a  local  president  are  similar  to 
those  of  a  stake  president.  She  should  maintain  the  dignity  of  her 
|>osition  by  prayerful  study  and  by  careful  attention  to  details,  look- 
ing well  after  the  needs  of  her  association  in  all  its  branches.  She 
should  attend  all  meetings  of  stake  and  local  officers,  in  person  when- 
ever possible,  otherwise  by  representative,  encouraging  an  attendance 
from  each  department  in  order  that  the  officers  may  receive  personal 
instruction. 

The  real  perplexities  of  government  in  our  work  devolve  upon  the 
local  president,  with  her  corps  of  assistants.  Her  need,  therefore,  of 
spiritual  guidance,  intelligent  forethought,  tactful  wisdom,  and  moral 
influence  is  greater  than  that  of  any  other  officer,  and  her  success 
depends  very  largely  upon  the  support  given  her  by  officers,  associates 
and  parents. 

The  General  Board  devotes  much  time  and  thought  to  the  careful 
planning  of  the  outlines  published  in  the  Children's  Friend,  seeking 
always  the  spiritual  uplift  of  the  children  of  Zion;  yet,  if  the  local 
officers  fail,  even  in  one  department,  to  put  these  plans  into  working 
order,  the  efforts  at  headquarters  are  nullified  and  the  system  weak- 
ened. The  local  presidency  must  meet  requirements,  or  we  accomplish 
but  little.  The  field  of  the  Primary  Association  is  boundless,  the  op- 
portunities for  advancement  unlimited,  and  the  influence  of  the  teacher 
over  the  lives  of  the  boys  and  girls  under  her  care  is  so  far-reaching 
that  it  must  not  be  lightly  valued.  Let  local  officers  discharge  their  duties 
valiantly  and  worthily,  and  great  honor  will  be  theirs. 

Counselors — Stake  and  Local, — A  counselor,  as  the  name  signifies, 
is  an  advisor  or  assistant  to  the  president.  She  should  be  honored  in 
her  position  and  consulted  in  all  matters  pertaining  to  the  interests 
of  the  association.  Counselors  should  acquaint  themselves  with  the 
workings  of  the  organization  in  all  its  departments.  They  should 
endeavor  to  form  personal  opinions  on  all  matters  of  importance,  in 
order  that  they  may  be  competent  to  advise  and  assist.  Counselors 
should  express  their  honest  convictions  when  a  subject  is  up  for  dis- 
cussion, and  although  it  is  not  their  privilege  to  dictate  to  the  president, 
and  the  right  of  decision  must  always  rest  with  her,  it  is  their  duty 
to  help  her  to  a  wise  conclusion.    They  should  share  equally  with  the 


THE  CHILDREN'S  fRIEND.  515 

president  every  responsibility,  although  it  is  necessary  that  she  should 
'  take  the  lead.  To  advise,  but  not  to  dictate ;  to  be  original,  yet  not 
contrary;  helpful,  but  not  presuming,  should  be  the  aim  of  every 
counselor.  Too  often,  counselors  are  prone  to  throw  all  unpleasant 
duties  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  president,  forgetting  that  they  stand 
with  her  as  three  in  one,  and  one  in  three.  It  is  their  duty  to  accompany 
the  president  ia  her  visits  through  the  stake,  sharing  the  responsibility 
of  procuring  suitable  conveyances  when  necessary,  assisting  her  in  the 
supervision  of  the  work,  reorganizing,  filling  vacancies,  and  giving 
instruction  in  department  labor.  President  and  counselors  should  work 
harmoniously  together  for  the  welfare  of  the  association,  prayerfully 
considering  and  adjusting  all  difficulties  that  arise,  and  acting  always 
in  the  spirit  of  love  and  kindness. 

TEACHING  MANNERS. 

Whatever  is  or  is  not  taught  to  our  children  in  the  coming  year, 
let  not  the  subject  of  manners  be  neglected.  The  following  admirable 
summing  up  of  this  need  is  found  in  the  course  of  study  in  Wallingford, 
Conn. — Editor. 

Manners  in  general — Quotations  about  manners;  golden  rule; 
need  of  constant  practice;  learning  by •  observation. 

Manners  at  school — Entering  and  leaving  room ;  laughing  at  mis- 
takes or  accidents ;  treatment  of  new  scholars ;  conduct  when  visitors 
are  present ;  raising  hands ;  rights  of  property ;  distributing  and  collect- 
ing materials ;  conduct  in  wardrobe  and  at  sink ;  in  relating  occurences ; 
when  to  speak  of  one's  self ;  tale-bearing,  or  telling  about  other  chil- 
dren. 

Manners  on  the  street — Why  specially  important;  noisy  and  bois- 
terous conduct;  calling  across  the  street;  obstructing  the  sidewalks; 
meeting  and  passing  persons ;  returning  salutations ;  tipping  the  hats ; 
carrying  an  umbrella ;  throwing  things  on  the  sidewalk ;  marking  fences 
and  sidewalk;  looking  at  windows  of  private  houses  and  pointing  at 
objects;  staring  or  laughing  at  infirmities;  answering  questions;  of- 
fering assistance. 

Manners  at  home — Why  most  important  of  all;  politeness  to 
parents ;  politeness  between  brothers  and  sisters  and  to  servants ;  treat- 
ment of  company — grown-up  company,  callers,  and  visitors,  young 
company. 

Manners  at  the  table — Promptness  in  coming  to  the  table ;  when  to 
be  seated:  waiting  one's  turn  to  be  helped;  asking  for  articles  of 
food — ^how,  when,  and  where;  criticism  of  food  on  the  table;  use 
of  napkin,  knife,  fork  and  spoon ;  haste  in  eating ;  attention  to  wants 
of  others ;  conduct  in  case  of  accidents ;  mention  of  unpleasant  sub- 
jects :  when  and  how  to  leave  the  table. 

Manners  toward  the  aged — ^Respectful  treatment  at  all  times; 
mistakes  in  grammar  and  pronunciation ;  attention     to  remarks  and 


516  THE  CHILDRLN'S  fRIENV. 

questions ;  patience  in  repeating  answers ;  what  to  talk  of  and  to  read 
to  them ;  waiting  upon  them  and  saving  steps ;  giving  them  the  best 
seats ;  helping  them  first  at  the  able ;  giving  up  seats  to  them  in  cars 
and  public  places;  never  letting  them  feel  in  the  way. 

Manners  in  society — Entering  and  taking  leave ;  removal  of  hat 
and  care  of  wraps ;  various  courtesies ;  staring  at  or  speaking  of  defects 
and  infirmities ;  treatment  of  accidents  and  mistakes ;  whispering, 
laughing,  and  private  conversation ;  inattention  to  the  company  we  arc 
in ;  introductions ;  giving  proper  titles ;  attention  in  conversation ;  at- 
tention to  reading  or  music;  interest  in  what  is  shown  us;  asking 
questions  of  strangers;  contradicting  statements. 

Manners  at  church — Punctuality;  manner  of  entering;  courtesy 
toward  strangers;  whispering,  laughing,  and  moving  about;  turning 
the  head  to  see  who  comes  in;  attention  to  the  service;  manner  of 
leaving. 

Manners  at  places  of  amusement — Punctuality ;  finding  seats ;  wait- 
ing quietly;  talking  and  laughing;  applause;  courtesy  to  others;  time 
and  manner  of  leaving. 

Manners  in  stores  and  public  places — Shutting  doors ;  how  to  ask 
for  articles  in  stores ;  making  trouble  for  clerks ;  handling  goods ;  find- 
ing fault  with  articles  or  prices ;  courtesy  to  other  customers ;  courtesy 
to  clerks ;  conduct  in  the  post-office ;  entering  in  crowds ;  not  waiting 
for  others;  noise  and  rudeness;  visiting  railroad  stations. 


OUT  IN  THE  FIELDS. 

The  little  cares  that  fretted  me, 

I  lost  them  yesterday. 
Among  the  fields  above  the  sea. 

Among  the  winds  at  play. 
Among  the  lowing  of  the  herds, 

The  rustling  of  the  trees. 
Among  the  singing  of  the  birds, 

The  humming  of  the  bees. 

The  foolish  fears  of  what  might  pass 

I  cast  them  all  away 
Among  the  clover-scented  grass, 

Among  the  new-mown  hay, 
Among  the  husking  of  the  com 

Where  drowsy  poppies  nod, 
Where  ill  thoughts  die  and  good  are  bom — 

Out  in  the  fields  with  God. 

Paul's. 


LESSON  DEPARTMENT 


Subject  for  tbe  /Dontbt    Aanners. 

The  Lesson  Hour. 

LESSON  THIRTY-SEVEN. 

SUGGESTIONS  FOR  ALL  THE  TEACHERS. 

It  is  suggested  that  every  teacher  read  chapter  three  in  "Every-day 
Living'*^  by  Annie  Payson  Call.  All  the  workers  are  urged  to  make 
as  much  as  possible  of  the  subject  for  this  month,  and  by  example  and 
precept  impress  upon  the  children  the  worth  and  beauty  of  good  man- 
ners. Mr.  Smiles  has  given  many  beautiful  thoughts  for  considera- 
tion, many  of  which  the  teachers  will  find  easy  to  adapt  to  the  under- 
standing of  the  children  in  their  classes. 

"Manners  rank  only  second  to  morals  as  an  element  in  personality. 
Manners,  indeed,  act  more  quickly  than  morals  in  our  intercourse  with 
others,  as  they  at  once  attract  or  repel.  It  is  most  unfortunate  when  a 
good  and  trustworthy  character  is  marred  by  rude  manners.  Success 
in  life  is  hindered  by  these  grave  faults,  even  when  all  the  underlying 
qualities  are  noble.  Attention  to  the  rules  that  make  the  daily  road 
of  life  pleasanter  to  travel,  and  obedience  to  the  social  code  which  regu- 
lates our  intercourse  with  others,  give  an  attractiveness  that  frequently 
outranks  talent  or  knowledge.  They,  therefore,  must  not  be  neglected, 
but  should  be  made  part  of  the  regular  instruction. 

"The  necessity  for  better  training  in  morals  and  manners  is  daily 
becoming  more  apparent  to  all,  and  from  all  sides  comes  the  demand 
for  it." — ^William  J.  Shearer. 

FIRST  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text:     Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  9. 
Bible:    The  Lost  Sheep. 

Other  Materials. 
Memory  Gem. 
Games. 
Songs. 
Pictures. 
Rest  Exercises. 


518  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Aim. 

Good  manners  should  be  cultivated  and  then,  like  the  fragrance  of 
flowers,  they  will  shed  sweetness  on  all  with  whom  they  come  in  contact. 

Illustration. 

"Good  Manners."     The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  5,  page  336. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  Review  the  lesson  on  Temper  and 
help  the  children  to  understand  something  of  the  relationship  between 
good  temper  and  manners.  In  playing  the  games  help  them  to  be 
polite,  teaching  the  right  way  to  shake  hands,  to  salute  each  other  and 
those  who  are  older,  and  as  many  of  the  little  courtesies  as  you  can 
make  time  for.  Speak  of  the  unfailing  kindness  of  the  Savior,  use  the 
story  of  the  Lost  Sheep,  making  your  point  from  the  fact  that  He 
could  not  rest  or  be  comfortable  until  all  the  sheep  were  in  the  fold  and 
safe  from  all  harm.     Use  picture  of  The  Good  Shepherd. 

Memory  Gem. 

Hearts,  like  doors  can  ope  with  ease 
To  very,  very  little  keys ; 
And  don't  forget  that  they  are  these : 
"I  thank  you,  sir,'*  and  "If  you  please." 

— Selected. 

Poem.     "Three  Little  Pussy  Cats."  • 

Three  little  pussy  cats,  invited  out  to  tea, 
Cried :    "Mother,  let  us  go,  oh,  do !  for  good  we'll  surely  be. 
We'll  wear  our  bibs,  and  hold  our  things  as  you  have  shown  us  how- 
Spoons  in  right  paws,  cups  in  left,  and  make  a  pretty  bow. 
We'll  always  say,  *Yes,  if  you  please,'  and  'Only  half  of  that.'  " 
"Then  go,  my  darling  children,"  said  the  happy  Mother  Cat. 
The  three  little  pussy  cats  went  out  that  night  to  tea. 
Their  heads  were  smooth  and  glossy,  their  tails  were  swinging  free ; 
They  held  their  things  as  they  had  learned,  and  tried  to  be  polite, 
With  snowy  bibs  beneath  their  chins,  they  were  a  pretty  sight. 
But,  alas  for  manners  beautiful  and  coats  as  soft  as  silk ! 
The  moment  that  the  little  kits  were  asked  to  take  some  milk, 
They  dropped  their  spoons,  forgot  to  bow,  and  oh,  what  do  you  think? 
They  put  their  noses  in  the  cups  and  all  began  to  drink ! 
Yes,  every  naughty  little  kit  set  up  a  MEOUW  for  more, 
Then  knocked  the  tea  cups  over  and  scampered  through  the  door. 

— Selected. 

SECOND  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text:     Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  9. 
Bible:     Feeding  of  the  Five  Thousand. 


J 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  519 

Other  Materials. 
Memory  Gem. 
Pictures. 
Games. 
Songs. 

Rest  Exercises. 
Aim. 

Good  manners  should  be  cultivated  and  then,  like  the  fragrance  of 
flowers,  they  will  shed  sweetness  on  all  with  whom  they  come  in  contact. 

Illustration. 

"Bertha  May."     The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  10,  page  381. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  .  The  materials  used  for  the  lesson  on 
Temper  will  be  found  very  useful  in  introducing  the  new  thoughts  on 
manners,  the  two  are  closely  related,  for  good  manners  help  us  to  con- 
trol bad  temper  and  cultivate  good  temper.  Have  some  exercises  to 
teach  the  children  how  to  be  polite  to  each  other  and  to  those  older  than 
themselves.  Tell  the  incident  of  the  Feeding  of  the  Five  Thousand, 
making  your  point  from  the  fact  that  the  Savior  was  very  weary  and 
tired  and  needed  rest,  but  that  He  could  not  think  of  Himself  until  He 
knew  that  the  people  had  been  fed  and  made  comfortable.  Emphasize 
the  thought  that  a  polite  person  will  never  choose  the  nicest  chair  or 
most  comfortable  place  if  there  be  older  ones  present  or  in  less  agree- 
able situations.  Adapt  the  poem  to  the  rest  of  the  lesson  by  talking 
about  the  way  boys  and  girls  can  help  by  remembering  to  be  polite,  even 
when  one  is  not  feeling  just  right.  Use  picture  of  Christ  feeding  the 
Five  Thousand. 


Memory  Gem. 


Be  gentle  and  loving. 
Be  kind  and  polite, 

Be  thoughtful  for  others. 
Be  sure  to  do  right. 


— Selected. 


Poem.     "Two  Ways  of  Getting  Up." 

When  we  tumble  out  of  the  right  side  of  bed, 
How  bright  the  sun  shines  overhead ! 
How  good  our  breakfast  tastes — and,  oh ! 
How  happily  to  school  we  go! 
And  o'er  the  day  what  peace  is  shed — 
When  we  tumble  out  of  the  right  side  of  bed ! 

When  we  tumble  out  the  wrong  side  of  bed, 
How  dark  the  sky  frowns  overhead ! 
How  dull  our  lessons,  how  cross  our  mother, 
How  perfectly  horrid  our  sisters  and  brothers ! 
And  they  all  say,  too,  it's  our  fault  instead ! 
When  we  tumble  out  the  wrong  side  of  bed ! 

—The  Outlook. 


520  THE  >  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

THIRD  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text:     Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  9. 
Bible :     Washing  Disciples*  Feet.  * 

Other  Materials. 
Memory  Grem. 
Poem. 
Songs. 
Pictures. 

Aim. 

Good  manners  should  be  cultivated  and  then,  like  the  fragrance  of 
flowers,  they  will  shed  sweetness  on  all  with  whom  they  come  in  contact. 

Illustration. 

''Alice  and  Allie."    The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  10,  page  253. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  Review  the  lesson  on  Temper  and 
help  tbe  children  to  feel  the  relationship  between  control  of  temper  and 
good  manners.  Talk  about  good  manners  at  home  and  elsewhere,  em- 
phasizing the  value  of  treating  our  own  with  the  greatest  politeness. 
Use  picture  of  Christ  Washing  His  Disciples  Feet,  tell  story  briefly,  ex- 
plaining the  beautiful  manners  shown  by  the  Savior  who  taught  us  by 
His  example  to  honor  one  another.  Use  the  memory  gem  to  help  to 
illustrate  the  point. 

Memory  Gent. 

"Small  service  is  true  service  while  it  lasts ; 

Of  friends  however  humble,  scorn  not  one ; 
The  daisy,  by  the  shadow  that  it  casts. 

Protects  the  lingering  dewdrops  from  the  sun." 

Poem.     "A  Gold-Plated  Boy." 

I'm  afraid,  Jack,"  said  grandpa,  in  a  tone  lacking  joy, 
'You  are  fast  growing  into  a  gold-plated  boy! 


"You  take  oflf  your  hat  when  you  see  Mrs.  Vaughn, 
When  your  mother  you  meet,  though,  you  just  keep  it  on. 

"When  with  neighbor  girls  you're  polite  as  can  be, 
But  when  with  your  sisters.  Jack — oh,  deary  me! 

"You  run  to  help  old  Mrs.  Bayncon  the  car; 

When  grandmother  needs  you — you  stay  where  you  are ! 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  521 

"You  call  to  Dick  Drew  to  come  over  and  play ; 
When  Tom  asks,  'J^ck,  may  I?'  you  say,  'Not  today'/ 

"So  you  see  what  I  mean — it  is  not  to  annoy — 
When  I  say  you're  becoming  a  gold-plated  boy ! 

"Were  you  polite  to  your  own  folks  as  to  others,  I  hold. 
You'd  not  be  gold-plated — but  a  boy  of  puregold !" 

— A.  F.  Caldwell. 


FOURTH  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text:     Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  9. 
Bible:     The  Woman  of  Samaria. 

Other  Materials. 
Questions. 
Memory  Gem. 
Poem. 
Recitation. 
Reading. 
Quotations. 

Aim. 

Good  manners  should  be  cultivated  and  then,  like  the  fragrance  of 
flowerb,  they  will  shed  sweetness  on  all  with  whom  they  come  in  contact. 

Illustration. 

"Paying  Flora  Back."  The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  10,  page 
204. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  Review  carefully  the  previous  les- 
son, tell  what  you  can  about  the  value  of  good  temper  and  how  much  a 
person  is  helped  who  has  learned  to  control  his  temper  and  has  such 
good  manners  that  under  the  most  trying  circumstances  he  can  be 
polite.  Use  picture  of  Christ  and  the  Woman  of  Samaria.  In  telling 
the  incident  notice  the  gentleness  and  politeness  of  the  Savior  to  the 
woman  of  a  despised  race.    . 

The  memory  gem,  poem  and  story  will  illustrate  how  the  exercise 
of  good  manners  re-act  upon  the  individual  who  strives  to  cultivate 
them. 

Questions. 

What  is  it  that  causes  the  boy  to  keep  his  seat  and  allow  a  lady  or 
old  gentleman  to  stand? 


522  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

What  is  it  that  causes  a  girl  to  take  the  largest  apple  in  the  dish? 

How  do  we  know  selfishness  and  laziness  are  bad  manners? 

What  are  some  signs  of  good  manners?  Let  a  number  of  the 
children  answer  this  question.  The  teacher  should  be  prepared  with  a 
considerable  list  of  the  little  courtesies  of  every-day  life  and  be  ready 
to  suggest  them  for  the  class  to  discuss. 

Memory  Gem. 

The  very  flowers  that  bend  and  meet, 
In  sweetening  others  grow  more  sweet. 
•  — O.  W.  Holmes. 


Poem,     "None  so  Deaf  as  Those  Who  will  not  Hear." 

BY  J.  W.  EDDY. 

Old  Uncle  JeflP 

W^as  somewhat  deaf, 
At  least  upon  occasion,  , 

But  all  who  knew  the  good  man  well 

Still  of  his  gentle  kindness  tell 
With  love  and  admiration. 

The  dear  old  soul 

Had  such  control 
Oi  every  mood  and  action, 

You  could  not  tell,  by  look  or  word. 

What  thought  he  had  e*en  when  he  heard 
Some  villainous  detraction. 

For  when  'twas  bad 

He  always  had 
Great  trouble  with  his  hearing; 

But  when  you  told  him  something  good 

'Twas  always  quickly  understood. 
His  deafness  scarce  appearing. 

He  had  no  dread 

Of  what  folks  said, 
Because,  he  did  not  fear  it. 

And  scandal's  tongue,  though  raging  red, 

W^as  silent,  for  he  always  said 
He  simply  could  not  hear  it. 

Quotations, 

Colossians  4:6;  James  3:17. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  523 

FIFTH  GRADE. 

Materials  fcr  the  Lesson. 

Text:     Character,  bv  Smiles,  chapter  9. 
Bible:     David  and  King  Saul. 

Other  Materials. 
Questions. 
Memory  Gem. 
Poem. 
Reading. 
Quotations. 

Aim. 

Good  manners  should  be  cultivated  and  then,  like  the  fragrance  of 
flowers,  they  will  shed  sweetness  on  all  with  whom  they  come  in  contact. 

Illustration. 

"How  Boys  Learn  to  Be  Kings."  The  Children's  Friend,  vol. 
10,  page  658. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  The  review  and  introduction  to  the 
new  subject  may  be  given  together  as  they  are  so  closely  related.  Good 
temper  is  closely  allied  to  manners  and  both  grow  out  of  self-control. 
Mr.  Smiles  has  some  very  interesting  things  in  his  chapter  on  manners 
and  as  much  as  possible  should  be  adapted  to  tlie  class.  The  incident 
of  David  sparing  the  life  of  King  Saul  (I  Samuel  24),  may  be  used  to 
illustrate  the  good  manners  of  David,  in  that  h?  showed  such  respect 
and  reverence  to  the  king. 

Questions. 

What  does  it  means  to  be  gentlemanly? 
What  does  it  mean  to  be  ladvlike? 
How  do  polite  people  treat  older,  or  poorer  people? 
What  are  good  manners  at  home  ?    At  school  ?     In  Church  ?     On 
the  street? 

How  should  we  act  when  one  makes  a  mistake? 

How  should  we  feel  towards  a  person  who  has  an  infirmity? 

Why  is  the  "Golden  Rule''  a  good  explanation  of  politeness? 

Memory  Gem. 

The  spirit  of  respect  and  love  for  others  is  the  foundation  of  all 
true  f)oliteness. — Selected. 

Reading. 

Time  well  spent  is  that  given  to  the  formation  of  good  manners  in 
the  home  life  of  children.     The  foundation  stones  of  good  manners  that 


524  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

win  in  society  and  in  life  must  be  laid  at  home.  Unless  politeness  is 
practiced  daily  and  hourly,  the  shabby,  common  rough  style  is  sure  to 
crop  out  and  reveal  the  coarseness  of  nature.  Manners  are  not  like 
clothes.  We  cannot  put  a  beautiful,  fine  suit  on  for  company  and  a 
plain,  coarse  one  on  for  home  wear.  They  are  a  part  of  ourselves,  and 
they  cannot  be  put  on  and  taken  off  at  pleasure.  They  are  like  the 
spine  and  shoulders  that  grow  straight  or  crooked  as  they  are  carried 
day  by  day. 

"In  families  where  the  external  forms  are  not  used,  there  is  per- 
petually recurring  contention  and  bickering.  The  forms  of  unchecked 
ill-temper  and  petty  selfishness,  varying  with  varying  character  and 
temperament,  are  continual  sources  of  irritation,  and  home  becomes  a 
nursery  of  bad  manners  and  bad  morals.  But,  happily,  good  manners 
are  catching,  and  children  learn  them  much  sooner  and  more  thoroughly 
by  example  than  by  precept." 

In  some  homes  there  are  two  sets  of  manners, — courteous  and 
pleasant  to  visitors,  and  ill-tempered  speech  and  actions  between  the 
members  of  the  family.  They  act  like  little  ladies  and  gentlemen  in 
the  presence  of  guests,  but  fight  like  little  animals  among  themselves. 
They  seem  bent  on  seeing  how  disagreeable  they  can  be  to  each  other, 
if  no  one  is  present  outside  the  family.     Are  these  children  well-bred? 

Where  should  courtesy  begin?  Courtesy,  like  charity,  begins  at 
home ;  it  is  not  easily  provoked — that  is,  does  not  carry  a  chip  on  the 
shoulder.  It  means  to  be  pleasant  at  home  as  elsewhere  and  make 
others  in  the  home  happy.  It  is  more  important  in  the  home  than  any- 
where else,  for  if  members  of  the  same  family  are  rude  and  unkind  and 
disregard  each  others  feelings,  there  is  little  comfort  or  pleasure  for 
any  member  of  the  family  in  it. — Selected. 

Poem,     "Forget." 

BY  FRANK  E.  EDWARDS. 

Would  you  increase  your  happiness? 

Would  you  your  life  prolong? 
Would  you  be  loved  by  everyone? 

Then  listen  to  my  song. 

Forget  your  neighbor's  fault,  my  friend. 

Forget  what  youVe  been  told. 
Let  kindness  and  unselfishness 

Win  those  whose  hearts  are  cold. 

Forget  peculiarities; 

Their  good  points  keep  in  mind; 
Forget  old  strifes  and  histories; 

Sad  memories  leave  behind. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  525 

Blot  out  what  happened  yesterday; 

Begin  a  new  clean  sheet; 
And  write  thereon,  for  memory's  sake, 

Things  lovable  and  sweet. 


Quotations.     I  Peter  3:8;  Titus  3:2-4/ 

HELPS  TO  AGREEABLENESS. 

To  be  memorized  and  recited  by  members. 

Be  punctual. 

Keep  your  promises. 

Neglect  none  of  the  little  courtesies. 

Don't  stand  off  with  an  uninterested,  don't-care  expression  on 
your  face. 

Learn  to  say  the  right  things  to  the  right  people. 

Govern  your  voice,  and  usage  is  the  only  thing  that  will  make  that 
possible. 

Force  yourself  to  say  something.  Do  not  be  afraid  to  speak  of 
simple  things. 

Look  well.  You  need  not  be  extravagant,  but  put  on  the  best  bib 
and  tucker  for  the  occasion,  literally  and  figuratively. 

Speak  well  of  all.  You  must  learn  to  have  no  ill  feeling  toward 
anybody. 

Avoid  those  smart  little  speeches  which  seem  clever,  but  are  coined 
at  the  expense  of  somebody  else. 

Achieve  stillness.  Don't  jerk,  wriggle,  tap  your  foot,  bite  your 
lips,  or  move  around  restlessly. 

Learn  to  listen  intelligently  and  with  real  interest. 


LESSON  THIRTY-EIGHT. 

The  Busy   Hour. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  Boys  as  well  as  girls  will  find  this 
work  interesting,  especially  if  they  are  given  opportunities  for  making 
and  choosing  designs  and  color  arrangement ;  if  small  quilts  are  planned 
they  can  make  the  frames  for  quilting.  If  there  is  not  time  to  complete 
the  work,  arrangements  may  be  made  to  give  further  assistance  at  some 
other  time.  The  directions  should  be  carefully  planned  so  as  to  be 
simple  and  easy  to  follow. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


QUILT  BLOCK. 

Materials.  Request  the  children  to  make  a  collection  of  pretty 
pieces  of  goods  at  home  that  can  be  used  for  making  quilt-blocks.  A 
needle  and  thread,  a  pair  of  scissors,  perhaps  a  thimble,  and  some  small 
pieces  of  cardboard  for  block  pattern  making,  will  also  be  needed. 

To  Make.  The  cloth  should  be  separated  and  classed  as  dark  and 
light,  as  quilt  blocks  are  made  under  the  principle  of  contrast  of  color; 
that  is,  dark  pieces  must  be  placed  against  light  pieces,  so  as  to  give 
more  beauty.  Designs  are  herewith  suggested:  1,  a  four  block;  2, 
triangle  or  wind  *lieel ;  3,  hour-glass ;  4,  double  hour-glass ;  5,  nine 
spot ;  6,  cross ;  7,  half-square ;  8,  star ;  9,  pyramid ;  10,  small  triangle  or 
cut  glass;  11,  rosette;  12,  wind-mill;  13,  sego  lily. 

.  The  pattern  should  be  made  about  one-fourth  inch  larger  all  around 
than  the  quilt  block  is  to  be,  so  as  to  allow  for  the  seams. 

Suggestive  Problems.  A  very  pretty  mat  may  be  made  by  finish- 
ing one  block  made  from  pieces  of  silk  or  satin,  edge  with  braided  eord 
or  fringe,  after  being  tilled  with  wadding  and  lined.  A  chair  pillow  or 
sofa  pillow  may  be  made  from  four  blocks.  I  am  of  the  opinion  that 
the  best  problem  in  this  line  would  be  a  large  quilt  made  by  the  chil- 
dren, and  then  sold  for  the  benefit  of  the  Primary. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  527 

iESSON  THIRTY-NINE. 

The  Story   Hour. 

FIRST  GRADE. 

Stories,     Picture  Books ;  or, 

The  North  Wind  and  the  Sun,  Boston  Collection  of  Kindergarten 
Stories,  page  74;  or, 

A  Bad  Example  or  Billy,  both  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's 
Friend. 

SECOND  GRADE. 

Stories.  Pippa,  or  Saul  and  David,  in  Child  Stories  from  the 
Masters;  or. 

Good  Manners,  or  In  a  Minute,  both  in  this  issue  of  The  Chil- 
dren's Friend. 

THIRD  GRADE. 

Stories.     Naughty  Little  Gold  Finger,  or  Courtesy  in  Birds,  in 

Boston  Collection  of  Kindergarten  Stories;  or, 

King  of  the  Golden  River,  in  How  To  Tell  Stories ;  or, 

*'Me  Too,"  or  Two  Ways  of  Telling  a  Story,  in  this  issue  of  The 

Children's  Friend. 

FOURTH  GRADE. 

Stories.  Little  Lord  Fauntleroy ;  or  The  Birds'  Christmas  Carol ; 
or  An  Astonished  Conductor,  or  Peter,  in  this  issue  of  The  Chil- 
dren's Friend. 

FIFTH  GRADE. 

Stories.  The  Great  Stone  Face,  in  Famous  Stories  Every  Child 
Should  Know;  or,  Heidi;  or. 

Tried  and  Proven,  or.  Courtesy  and  Success  in  this  issue  of  The 
Children's  Friend. 


LESSON  THIRTY-SIX. 

The  Sociat^  Hour. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  Particular  attention  should  be  given 
to  the  cultivation  of  good  manners  at  all  sessions  of  the  Primary  Asso- 
ciation and  this  month  gives  unusual  opportunity  which  should  be  used 
to  the  utmost  to  encourage  the  children  to  want  to  be  courteous  and 
polite  to  all. 


528  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Preliminary  Music, 

Prayer. 

Singing, 

Story  on  Manners. 

Dances.  The  Children's  Polka;  Folk  Dances,  Crampton.  The 
Ace  of  Diamonds ;  Folk  Dances,  Burchenal. 

Games.  Meeting  and  Greeting;  Popular  Folk  Dances;  Hansel 
and  Gretchen ;  Old  and  New  Singing  Games ;  Looby  Loo ;  Hands  Over 
Head,  Bean  Bag  Game;  Three  Deep;  Hand  Ball  Drill.  Last  four 
games  all  from  Games  for  the  Playground. 

Recitation  of  Memory  Gems. 

Singing, 

Benediction. 


NOT  TOO  LATE. 

**It  is  too  late !    Ah,  nothing  is  too  late — 

Cato  learned  Greek  at  eighty;  Sophocles 

Wrote  his  grand  *Aedipus,*  and  Simonides 

Bore  oflf  the  prize  of  verse  from  his  compeers, 

When  each  had  numbered  more  than  four  score  years ; 

And  Theophrastus  at  four  score  and  ten 

Had  begun  his  'Characters  of  Men.' 

Chaucer  at  Woodstock,  with  the  nightingales, 

At  sixty  wrote  the  'Canterbury  Tales.' 

Goethe  at  Weimar,  toiling  to  the  last, 

Completed  'Faust'  when  eighty  years  were  past. 

What  then,  shall  we  sit  idly  down  and  say. 

The  night  hath  come;  it  is  no  longer  day? 

— For  age  is  opportunity  no  less 

Than  youth  itself,  tho  in  another  dress. 

And  as  the  evening  twilight  fades. itway. 

The  sky  is  filled  with  stars  invisiWe  by  day." 

— Longfellow. 

OUR  LIVES  ARE  SONGS. 

Our  lives  are  songs ;  God  writes  the  words, 

And  we  set  them  to  music  at  pleasure; 
And  the  song  grows  glad,  or  sweet,  or  sad, 

As  we  choose  to  fashion  the  measure, 
We  must  write  the  music,  whatever  the  song, 

Whatever  its  rhyme  or  meter, 
And  if  it  is  sad  we  can  make  it  glad. 
Or  if  it  is  Sweet,  we  can  make  it  Sweeter. 

— Selected. 


"Ok — oh — h(Kre  you  Peggy  Piper's  little  dog  Stumpy? 


Vol.  12.  OCTOBER,  1913  No.  10 


LITTLH  PRINCESS  WISLA. 

BY  SOPHIE  SWETT 
CHAPTER    X. — IN    THE   CANADIAN    CITY. 

She  was  going  to  find  Peggy! 

When  Betty  told  him  that,  through  the  keyhole,  Sidney  Brooks 
said  to  himself  that  it  was  just  like  a  girl  to  think  she  could  do  what 
detectives  and  offers  of  large  rewards  all  over  the  country  had  not  been 
able  to  do! 

Of  course  Betty  was  very  silly  to  think  she  could  find  Peggy 
by  going  to  Canada  with  Aunt  Celia,  who  liked  to  be  fashionable  and 
go  to  great  hotels  and  buy  laces  and  mackintoshes  cheaper  than  she 
could  buy  them  at  home. 

And  Sidney  refused  to  look  out  of  the  window  to  see  Betty  go 
driving  off  to  the  railroad  station  with  Aunt  Celia  because  she  had 
said  she  was  "going  to  find  Peggy." 

But  Betty  went  off  gaily,  waving  her  hand  towards  his  darkened 
window  on  the  chance  that  he  might  be  peeping  through  a  chink.  The 
"Peggy-ache''  as  she  called  it,  which  never  wholly  left  her  heart,  was 
eased  by  the  thought  that  she  was  going  to  seek  for  her  dear  best 
friend.  She  didn't  believe  but  that  she  should  come  across  the  old 
squaw  Winne-Lackee  and  the  little  Indian  princess,  even  if  Canada 
was  as  large  a  place  as  the  boys  said  and  if  the  Indians  had  carried 
Peggy  off,  as  some  of  the  boys  thought. 

Princess  Wisla  was  a  little  girl  if  she  was  an  Indian  princess  and 
she  could  not  help  wishing  to  help  another  little  girl  to  get  back  to 
her  home  and  friends. 

That  was  what  Betty  Brooks  thought. 

Besides,  as  we  all  know,  one  little  girl  will  tell  another  little  girl 
a  good  many  secrets  when  they  get  to  be  real  friends.  Betty  meant 
that  she  and  the  little  Indian  princess  should  be  real  friends,  if  they 
could  only  meet ! 

And  in  this  great  beautiful  world,  as  everyone  knows,  great, 
beautiful,  unexpected  things  do  happen. 

Betty  looked  for  the  strange  old  squaw  and  the  little  Indian  prin- 


532  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

^  cess,  even  on  board  the  railroad  train.  She  looked  for  them  even  more 
hopefully  in  the  railroad  station  of  the  great  Canadian  city  wh^re  trains 
were  bringing  crowds  of  people  from  all  quarters.  She  looked  in  the 
streets  and  in  the  shops  where  Aunt  Celia  bought  beautiful  bargains. 

Once  her  heart  leaped  at  sight  of  an  Indian  face  in  the  throng,  at 
a  street  crossing.  But  it  was  only  a  "make-believe"  Indian,  carrying 
around  handbills  of  a  show. 

Aunt  Celia  said  it  was  not  at  all  likely  that  the  queer  old  squaw 
went  about  like  other  people,  with  her  little  princess,  and  that  it  was 
not  at  all  strange  if  the  little  princess  had  a  dog  that  looked  like 
Peggy  Piper's  Stumpy — poor  little  Peggy  Piper  who  had,  without 
doubt  been  drowned  in  the  river. 

Betty  was  trying  to  begin  to  think  that  was  true ;  and  the  "Pegg)- 
ache"  was  all  back  at  her  heart  when  one  day  she  caught  sight  of  a 
beautiful  open  carriage  which  was  attracting  a  crowd  in  the  street 

Betty  saw  dark  faces  in  the  carriage  and  pushed  her  way  through 
the  crowd  towards  it,  forgetting  Aunt  Celia  who  was  just  coming 
out  of  a  shop.  There  was  the  old  squaw !  Betty  had  once  or  twice 
had  a  glimpse  of  her  and  she  knew  her  at  once. 

Winne-Lackee  now  dressed  herself  more  like  an  Indian  than  ever 
because  she  felt  that  it  was  safer  to  dress  Peggy  like  a  little  Indian 
girl  and  it  seemed  natural  and  proper  that  they  should  be  dressed  in  the 
same  fashion. 

Winne-Lackee's  hair  hung  down  her  back  and  she  wore  a  blanket 
a  silk  blanket  richly  embroidered. 

Betty,  peering  through  the  crowd,  saw  the  little  princess,  too!  A 
black-haired  little  Indian  girl  in  a  silken  tunic  embroidered  with  beads, 
and  with  many  strings  of  beads  around  her  neck — one  of  them  a  string 
of  pink  coral  beads,  each  bead  a  little  carved  head — ^not  like  the  little 
string  that  Peggy  had  worn  and  whose  one  broken  bead  was  carried  al- 
ways in  Phi's  pocket  along  with  a  water-stained  hair-ribbon ! 

Betty  was  determined  to  get  near  enough  to  speak  to  the  princess 
who  sat  facing  the  horses. 

She  sat  on  the  seat  with  the  old  squaw  and  on  the  other  seat  sat  a 
tall  Indian  man  dressed  like  a  white  man  except  that  his  hat  had  a 
broad  brim ;  his  hair  was  long  and  his  necktie  large  and  red.  But  Bett>' 
kept  her  eyes  on  the  little  Indian  girl. 

The  crowd  passed  so  close  to  the  carriage  that  the  horses  could 
scarcely  move. 

Old  Dr.  Sockabesin  had  an  office  in  the  Canadian  city  and  prac- 
ticed medicine  there,  at  certain  times  of  the  year,  so  it  is  probable  that 
he  liked  to  attract  the  crowd  and  thus  advertise  himself. 

But  the  old  squaw  was  impatient.  Her  black  eyes  flashed  angrily. 
She  called  sharply  to  the  driver  to  go  on. 

And  just  then  Betty,  who,  being  a  small  person,  had  pushed  and 
wriggled  her  way  to  the  side  of  the  carriage,  was  so  close  to  the  little 
Princess  Wisla  that  she  could  look  into  her  eyes  and  speak  to  her. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  I'RIENU.  533 

"Oh — oh — have  you  Peggy  Piper's  little  dog  Stumpy?"  gasped 
Betty.    "And  do  you  know  whether  the  Indians  carried  Peggy  away  ?" 

The  color  came  to  little  Princess  Wisla's  cheeks ;  it  was  plainly  to 
be  seen  even  through  the  pokeberry  stain. 

Another  name,  this  was,  that  stirred  sleeping  memory!  Surely 
somewhere  she  had  heard  the  name  of  Peggy  Piper! 

And  this  little  white  girl  knew  Stumpy!  She  said  that  Stumpy 
was  Peggy  Piper's  dog!    • 

"Stumpy  is  my  dog,''  she  said  slowly.  "I — I  can't  remember 
Peggy  Piper." 

Wmne-Lackee  had  sprung  to  her  feet.  The  blood  had  rushed 
to  her  face,  although  it  only  made  it  look  blacker.  She  called  out  again 
to  the  driver  to  go  on  and  he  whipped  his  horses.  They  made  a 
spring  forward  and  the  crowd  scattered. 

But  a  cry  went  up  from  the  people  on  the  sidewalk.  Betty,  in  her 
eagerness  to  speak  to  the  little  princess,  had  set  her  foot  upon  the 
low  step  of  the  carriage  and  when  the  horses  started  suddenly  she 
would  have  fallen,  perhaps  under  the  wheel,  if  old  Dr.  Sockabesin  had 
not  leaned  over  and  caught  her,  drawing  her  into  the  carriage  beside 
him. 

The  crowd  made  a  great  outcry,  some  cheering  because  they 
thought  the  little  white  girl  was  a  part  of  the  show,  some  excited  and 
alarmed  because  they  thought  the  Indians  were  kidnapping  a  child. 

But  the  horses  went  like  the  wind  now,  a  space  having  been  cleared 
for  them  by  the  frightened  people,  and  in  a  very  little  while  they  were 
drawn  up  before  a  hotel  in  a  retired  street.  It  was  a  fine,  large  hotel 
but  it  was  in  a  very  diflFerent  part  of  the  city  from  the  one  in  which 
Betty  and  her  aunt  were  staying.  There  were  many  foreign-looking 
people  about  and  no  one  stared  very  much  at  the  Indians. 

Little  Princess  Wisla  clung  to  Betty's  hand.  "I  want  the  little 
white  girl  to  stay  with  me,"  she  said,  and  the  tears  rushed  suddenly  to 
her  eyes.  '*She  makes  me  remember  a  beautiful  dream !  I  want  her  to 
tell  me  who  Peggy  Piper  is !" 

The  old  Squaw  and  Dr.  Sockabesin  looked  at  each  other  as  if  they 
were  very  much  startled,  and  they  talked  together  in  Indian,  while 
the  driver  kept  turning  around  to  see  whether  they  were  going  to 
get  out  of  the  carriage  or  not. 

"Little  white  girl  must  go  home  now,"  said  Winne-Lackee  in 
her  softest  voice  to  Princess  Wisla,  after  a  while.  "Her  people  will  be 
very  anxious.  Many  men  be  sent  to  search  everywhere  for  little 
white  girl!" 

"So  they  would  I"  said  Betty  gravely.  "Just  as  they  are  searching 
everywhere  for  Peggy  Piper  now !  But  if  you  will  let  me  I  will 
telephone  to  Aunt  Celia,  so  she  will  know  where  I  am.  Perhaps  she 
will  come  over  and  get  me.  And  while  we  are  waiting  I  can  tell  her" — 
Betty  gave  a  little  squeeze  to  the  small  dark  hand  which  she  still  kept 
in  hers — "all  about  Peggy  Piper !" 


534  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

But  Dr.  Sockabesin  had  given  an  order  to  the  driver. 

"He  will  drive  you  to  your  aunt,  my  child,  and  you  can  come 
again.  Come  in  the  morning  and  bring  your  aunt  with  you!"  he  said 
very  kindly  to  Betty.    And  Betty  had  to  drive  away. 

But  first  she  and  Princess  Wisla  put  their  arms  around  each  others 
necks,  like  little  girls  who  had  known  each  other  a  long  time.  And 
Betty  whispered :  "If  you  were  a  little  white  girl  instead  of  a  little 
Indian  girl  you  would  look  very  much  like  Peggy  Piper!" 

Little  Princess  Wisla  stood  looking  after  the  carriage  that  car- 
ried Betty  away  and  the  tears  were  streaming  down  her  cheeks. 

"Why  will  you  not  be  happy  when  I  give  you  everything  you 
want?"  said  old  Winne-Lackee  impatiently. 

"I  only  want  to  be  a  little  white  girl !"  said  Princess  Wisla,  with 
a  great  sob. 

Winne-Lackee's  hard  Indian  face  worked,  then,  as  if  she  were 
going  to  cry.  What  she  longed  for  most  in  the  world  was  that  Princess 
Wisla  should  love  her! 

And  surely,  surely  that  would  never  be  if  Princess  Wisla's  mem- 
ory should  come  back  and  she  should  know  that  she  was  really  Peg- 
gy Piper! 

Winne-Lackee  trembled  when  she  thought  how  dangerous  it  was 
to  have  so  near  at  hand  the  little  white  girl  who  had  laiown  Peggy 
Piper. 

So  the  next  morning  when  Betty  and  her  aunt  arrived  at  the 
hotel  they  were  told  that  the  party  of  Indians  had  gone  away  suddenly, 
the  night  before,  with  all  their  baggage!  No  one  knew  where  they 
had  gone  but  it  was  thought  they  intended  to  sail  for  Europe. 

Aunt  Celia  sent  to  Dr.  Sockabesin's  office  to  find  out  where  little 
Princess  Wisla  had  gone.  But  the  office  was  closed  and  the  doctor 
not  to  be  found. 

"I  wouldn't  have  cared  so  much  if  Princess  Wisla  hadn't  looked 
exactly  as  Peggy  would  have  looked  after  some  old  witch  had  turned 
her  into  a  little   Indian  girl"  sobbed  Betty. 

Aunt  Celia  said  she  must  not  be  like  silly  little  girls  who  thought 
there  were  witches. 

But  Aunt  Celia  owned  that  she  thought  the  little  Indian  princess 
looked  like  Peggy  Piper,  yet  she  was  sure  that  outside  of  a  fairy  book 
Peggy  Piper  could  not  have  been  made  to  think  that  she  was  a  little 
Indian  girl,  as  every  word  that  she  had  said  to  Betty  showed  that 
the  princess  did. 

And  it  was  such  a  short  time  before  that  Peggy  had  been  lost! 
She  could  not  have  forgotten  Betty  or  Pollywhoppet  or  her  own  name! 

But  yet  Aunt  Celia  was  very  much  disturbed.  She  walked  the 
floor  trying  to  decide  what  to  do.  She  said  to  Betty  that  she  could  not 
send  messages  to  have  the  Indians  arrested  for  she  could  give  no 
good  reason,  no  reason  at  all,  in  fact,  for  doing  it. 

Perhaps  they  might  see  the  little  princess  again  if  they  were 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  535 

to  go  to  Bar  Harbor.     One  might  not  be  foolish  enough  to  believe 
in  witches  and  yet  might  wish  to  see  Princess  Wisla  again. 

It  seemed  likely  that  Winne-Lackee  might  take  her  little  grand- 
daughter to  Bar  Harbor,  since  she  was  traveling  for  the  child's  health, 
as  they  had  been  told  at  the  hotel. 

Winne-Lackee  loved  Bar  Harbor,  as  every  one  knew,  and  her 
appearance,  in  her  strange,  gorgeous  costumes,  drew  many  visitors  to 
the  Indian  camps. 

Yes,  they  would  go  to  Bar  Harbor!  And  perhaps  Dr.  Brooks 
would  allow  Sidney  to  come  after  he  was  so  much  better  that  no  one 
could  take  the  measles. 

Perhaps  Phi  Piper  could  come  too.  It  would  be  good  for  him ; 
he  had  brooded  over  Peggy's  loss  until  he  was  only  like  a  shadow  of 
sturdy  little  Phi. 

Betty  brightened  and  wiped  her  eyes.  She  said,  more  hopefully 
then  ever,  that  they  were  going  to  find  Peggy! 

(to  be  continued) 


OCTOBER'S  PARTY. 

October  gave  a  party 

The  leaves  in  hundreds  came, — 
The  Chestnuts,  Oaks,  and  Maples, 

And  leaves  of  every  name. 

The  Sunshine  spread  a  carpet 

And  everything  was  grand. 
Miss  Weather  led  the  dancing, 

Professor  Wind,  the  band. 

The  Chestnuts  came  in  yellow, 

The  Oaks  in  crimson  dressed, 
The  lovely  Misses  Maple, 

In  scarlet,  looked  their  best. 

All  balanced  to  their  partners 

And  gaily  fluttered  by. 
The  sight  was  like  a  rainbow 

New-fallen  from  the  sky. 

Then  in  the  rusty  hollows 

At  hide-and-seek  they  played ; 
The  party  closed  at  sun-down 

And  everybody  stayed. 

— Selected. 


536  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


FRANCES'  LEAVhN. 

Everything  was  going  wrong  that  morning.  In  the  first  place 
it  rained  so  that  Frank  could  not  go  fishing  with  father.  He  sat  dis- 
consolately on  the  window  sill,  swinging  his  feet  and  looking  very  cross 
and  unhappy.  Presently  one  of  the  swinging  feet  strudc  the  table 
where  Mabel's  paper  dolls  were  having  a  party.  Over  when  the  dolls, 
most  of  them  on  the  floor,  and  Mabel  began  to  cry. 

Little  Jack  had  been  trying  to  straighten  the  bent  coupler  on  one 
of  his  cars.  "Mabel,  fix  it!"  he  coaxed,  carrying  it  over  to  her;  but 
Mabel  wouldn't. 

"Frank  fix  it!"  he  begged,  taking  it  to  him!  but  Frank  wouldn't. 
And  then  Jack  began  to  cry. 

Frances,  Frank's  twin,  was  upstairs  helping  mother  get  ready 
to  go  down  town  on  an  important  errand. 

"It's  too  bad  that  I  have  to  go,"  said  mother  as  the  unhappy 
sounds  from  the  playroom  came  up  to  them ;  "but  I  believe  that  you 
can  set  a  little  bit  of  the  'leaven  of  love'  working  down  there,  and  ever>'- 
thing  will  soon  be  all  right." 

Father  had  read  from  the  Bible  that  morning  about  God's  love 
being  like  the  leaven — which  is  another  name  for  yeast — in  the  bread, 
which  works  steadily  and  silently  until  the  whole  is  light  and  sweet  and 
good  for  food;  for  God's  love  in  people's  hearts  changes  them  and 
changes  all  the  other  hearts  that  it  touches,  just  as  the  yeast  changes 
everything  it  touches. 

Frances  understood  what  her  mother  meant,  but  she  said  doubt- 
fully, "I  don't  know  what  to  do." 

'Try  to  think  of  something  that  you  can  play  with  them/'  said 
mother ;  "and  here  is  a  little  treat  for  you  all,  to  help  you  begin."  From 
a  box  on  the  table  she  took  four  little  cakes  of  chocolate  which  she 
handed  to  Frances. 

Frances  thought  of  the  dress  she  had  planned  to  make  for  her 
new  doll  that  morning,  and  for  a  minute  she  almost  wanted  to  say, 
"No,"  but  a  sob  from  Jack  sent  her  skipping  downstairs  with  an  "AD 
right,  mother,"  that  left  her  mother  saying  softly  to  herself,  "What  a 
dear  treasure  she  is!" 

They  were  so  taken  up  with  the  chocolate  that  the  tears  scattered 

"Frances,  fix  my  train!"  coaxed  Jack  again,  and  this  time  he 
was   not   disappointed. 

When  the  car  was  mended  Frances  said,  "Let's  have  a  wedding 
with  Mabel's  dolls!  They  can  go  on  their  wedding  trip  on  Jack'? 
train,  and  Frank  and  I  will  build  the  depot  and  the  bridges  out  of 
blocks,  and  then  we'll  get  the  shells  and  stones  out  of  tihe  cabinet 
and  make  the  mountains  and  the  seashore." 

"All  right !"  shouted  Mabel  and  Jack,  but  Frank  said  gruffly,  *'I 
don't  want  to  play!" 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  537 

It  was  such  fun,  however,  that  pretty  soon  he  grew  interested 
in  spite  of  himself,  and  when  Frances  began  trying  to  make  a  rail- 
road  up  the  mountain  he  ran  to  get  his  precious  new  engine  and  his 
track,  and  soon  was  playing  as  hard  as  anybody. 

When  .mother  came  home,  there  were  no  longer  any  sounds  of 
crying  coming  from  the  playroom;  instead  there  was  a  merry  shout 
of  laughter,  which  told  her  that  a  loving,  unselfish  little  girl  had 
changed  the  unhappy  hearts  into  happy  ones. — Selected. 


CHOOSING. 

Once  upon  a  time,  in  a  certain  country,  dwelt  a  good  king  named 
Arthur.  The  palace  in  which  King  Arthur  lived  was  made  of  marble. 
Strong  towers  were  built  upon  the  corners  up  toward  the  clouds.  With 
King  Arthur  lived  his  soldier  helpers  who  were  called  knights.  Those 
who  chose  to  become  King  Arthur's  helpers  must  first  conquer  the 
evil  in  themselves.  They  must  become  good  and  true  and  noble  and 
brave.  When  they  had  become  strong  enough  to  follow  the  right  them- 
selves they  went  forth  to  right  the  wrong  beyond  the  castle  walls. 

Arthur's  knights  wore  strong,  shining  armor.  They  carried  sharp, 
true  swords.  They  passed  much  of  their  time  in  practice  and  wrestling 
that  they  might  grow  strong  for  battle. 

When  King  Arthur  chose  a  new  knight  the  young  man  promised 
many  things.  At  sunset  one  evening  he  chose  his  good  sword.  Then 
he  spent  the  night  in  prayer.  He  prayed  that  he  might'  become  noble 
and  brave  and  true  and  good.  When  morning  came,  he  went  into  the 
church.  He  laid  his  sword  upon  the  altar  and  promised  to  lead  a 
holy  life.  King  Arthur  bound  upon  him  the  sword  that  he  had  chosen. 
Then,  striking  him  lightly  upon  the  shoulder  with  his  own  true  sword, 
he  would  say,  "Be  thou  a  true  and  faithful  knight." 

One  of  the  king's  truest,  most  faithful  knights  was  Sir  Lancelot. 
He  was  so  strong  that  the  sharpest  sword  had  little  power  to  hurt  him. 
King  Arthur  was  sure  to  find  help  when  he  called  upon  Sir  Lancelot. 
His  arm  struck  the  truest  strokes.     His  sword  obeyed  its  master. 

One  day  Sir  Lancelot  went  forth  to  fight  an  enemy  of  the  king. 
The  big,  wicked  knight  rode  out  to  meet  him.  They  plunged  toward 
each  other.  The  clang,  clang  of  their  swords  sounded  far  oflf  into  the 
forest.  Each  knight  received  wounds.  Each  became  weak  from 
fighting. 

At  last  the  big,  wicked  knight  said  to  Sir  Lancelot:  "You  fight 
well.  Your  sword  is  strong.  Never  before  have  I  met  a  knight  who 
has  so  nearly  conquered  me.    I  would  like  you  to  become  my  friend.** 

But  Sir  Lancelot  answered:  "Never!  I  have  chosen  to  be  a  fol- 
lower of  the  good  Kind  Arthur."  Then  he  rose  again,  and  fought 
the  wicked  knight  till  he  conquered  him. 

This  is  only  a  make-believe  story,  but  it  will  help  us  to  understand 


538  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

a  real  one.    It  will  help  us  to  understand  something  which  Jesus  once 
said  about  choosing. 

Our  story  for  to-day  tells  about  still  other  lessons  that  Jesus 
taught  that  day  when  he  sat  upon  the  mountain  side  and  the  people 
listened  at  his  feet.  He  helped  them  know  the  best  and  truest  ways 
of  choosing.  Every  man  and  woman  in  all  the  world  must  choose 
over  and  over  again.  Boys  and  girls  must  choose.  Every  day  boys  and 
girls  say  to  themselves:  "Shall  I  do  this  or  shall  I  do  that  tiling?** 
Is  this  the  best  thing  for  me  to  get  for  myself  or  is  that  ?"  It  is  often 
hard  to  choose.  Mistakes  are  often  made.  Jesus  knew  that  it  is 
hard  to  make  the  right  choice,  so  he  helped  the  people  that  day.  He 
helped  them  to  know  what  to  choose  that  they  might  have  for  them- 
selves the  best,  the  richest  treasures. 

Jesus  said  to  the  people:  "Lay  not  up  for  yourselves  treasures 
upon  earth,  where  moth  and  rust  doth  corrupt,  and  where  thieves 
break  through  and  steal ;  but  lay  up  for  yourselves  treasures  in  heaven, 
where  neither  moth  nor  rust  doth  corrupt,  and  where  thieves  do  not 
break  through  nor  steal." 

Jesus  knew  that  these  people  did  not  know  the  safest  place 
to  keep  their  treasures.  Sometimes  they  spent  their  money  for  the 
costly  clothes  which  they  loved.  But  these  costly  clothes  had  enemies. 
Often  the  moths  which  feed  upon  cloth  would  light  upon  the  beautiful 
garments  and  destroy  them  in  a  nighttime.  Sometimes  these  treasures 
would  be  stolen  by  thieves.  Jesus  told  these  people  that  the  things 
which  they  did  for  the  heavea\''  Father's  sake  were  the  safest  treas- 
ures. He  said  that  doing  for  the  heavenly  Father  was  the  same  as 
placing  treasures  where  no  evil  could  befall  them. 

Again  Jesus  said,  "No  man  can  serve  two  masters:  for  either 
he  will  hate  the  one,  and  love  the  other;  or  else  he  will  hold  to  the 
one,  and  despise  the  other." 

Then  he  told  them  again  about  the  love  and  care  that  God  is  able 
and  willing  to  give  to  those  who  choose  to  serve  him.  He  looked 
toward  the  birds  which  they  could  see  in  the  trees  round  about  them 
and  said :  "See  the  birds  of  the  air :  they  do  not  sow,  ner  reap 
nor  gather  into  barns:  yet  your  Heavenly  Father  feeds  them.  Are 
you  not  of  more  value  than  they?  If  he  gives  the  birds  their  food 
will  be  not  surely  feed  you  who  are  his  children?" 

To  help  the  people  still  better  to  understand  the  love  of  God  he 
said:  "Why  are  you  anxious  about  your  raiment?  See  the  lilies 
of  the  field,  how  they  grow ;  they  neither  toil  nor  spin :  yet  I  say  unto 
you  that  even  King  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  was  not  clothed  like  one 
of  these.  If  God  clothes  the  grass  and  the  flowers  in  such  beauty,  shall 
he  not  be  much  more  willing  to  clothe  you  who  are  his  children? 

Jesus  told  them  still  more  of  the  Father's  love  and  his  care.  He 
said,  "Your  Heavenly  Father  knoweth  that  you  have  need  of  all  these 
things.**  Then  he  said,  "Choose  these  heavenly  things,  and  all  else 
that  you  need  shall  be  given  you." — Selected. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  539 


RUTH'S  FAVORITE  RECREATION. 

Ruth  likes  nothing  better  than  to  find  a  cosy  comer,  where  she 
may  sit,  reading  some  interesting  book.  She  has  many  good  books  of 
her  own,  and  then  she  often  gets  books  out  of  the  Sunday  school 
library,  as  well  as  out  of  the  pretty  little  town  library  in  the  place 
where  she  lives. 

She  does  not  neglect  her  lessons,  but  every  spare  moment  that 
she  can  find  she  will  spend  in  her  cosy  corner  with  some  of  her  favorite 
books. 

Ruth's  parents  help  her  to  select  the  books  that  she  reads,  and  in 
this  way  she  is  learning  many  things,  which  she  would  not  otherwise 
know.  She  is  very  fond  of  reading  nature  books,  and  when  she  takes 
a  walk  in  the  country  it  is  astonishing  to  find  out  how  much  she  knows 
about  the  birds  and  the  flowers. 

It  IS  a  good  thing  to  make  friends  out  of  books,  for  they  help 
us  to  pass  away  many  a  pleasant  hour,  and  then,  too,  as  some  one 
has  wisely  said,  "Books  are  friends  which  every  man  may  call 
his   own." 


AN  OCTOBER  WALK. 

Walled  in  with  fire  on  either  hand 
I  walk  the  lonely  wood-road  through ; 

The  maples  name  above  my  head, 

And  spaces  whence  the  wind  has  shed 

About  my  feet  the  living  red. 
Are  filled  with  broken  blue. 

And  crowding  close  along  the  way 

The  purple  asters  blossom  free. 
In  full  profusion,  far  and  wide. 
They  fill  the  path  on  every  side, 
In  loose  confusion  multiplied 

To  endless  harmony! 

And  still  beside  the  shadowy  glen 

She  holds  the  color  of  the  skies; 
Along  the  purpling  wayside  steep 
She  hangs  her  fringes  passing  deep, 
And  meadows  drowned  in  happy  sleep 

Are  lit  by  starry  eyes. 

— Selected. 


540  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


NOT  ASHAMED. 

Rhoda  was  staying  with  her  cousin  Mildred  while  her  father  and 
mother  went  to  Europe.  Mildred  was  just  her  own  age  and  so  the 
two  were  planning  great  fun  together,  although  they  never  before  had 
seen  each  other. 

"I  have  put  your  bed  in  beside  Mildred*s  dear,"  said  Aunt  Lucy, 
"for  I  thought  you  might  be  a  little  lonesome  in  a  strange  place ;  but 
you  two  little  girls  must  remember  not  to  talk  after  the  clock  strikes 
eight,  for  then  it  is  time  for  chickabiddies  to  be  asleep.'* 

Mildred  was  so  full  of  fun  and  so  bent  on  giving  her  cousin  a 
good  time  that  Rhoda  forgot  all  about  being  lonesome  and  was  kept 
laughing  every  moment. 

'  '  seven  o'clock  both  little  girls  scurried  off  to  their  room;  for 
Mildred  had  promised  to  tell  Rhoda  a  wonderful  story  after  they 
were  in  bed — all  about  a  fairy  princess  that  lived  in  a  beautiful  castle. 

A  little  white-gowned  figure  knelt  by  each  bed  to  say  her  prayers, 
and  when  they  rose  from  their  knees  Mildred  hopped  into  bed  like  a 
white  rabbit,  while  Rhoda  hesitated  for  a  minute  before  she  asked, 
"Don't  vou  read  a  chapter  from  your  Bible  before  you  go  to  bed. 
Mildred?" 

"Oh,  dear  no;  do  you?  I  never  could  be  so  good  as  all  that 
What  good  does  it  do  anyhow?  It  would  only  make  me  sleepier. 
Then,  too,  I  think  the -Bible  is  a  very  hard  book  for  children  to  un- 
derstand. Whenever  I  have  tried  to  read  it,  I  didn't  know  what  it 
meant,  so  I  don't  read  it  any  more." 

Rhoda  was  half  ashamed  to  confess  that  she  always  read  a  chap- 
ter, for  fear  she  would  be  thought  a  goody-goody,  and  she  would  have 
hopped  into  bed  too,  as  Mildred  had  done,  only  she  remembered  her 
mother  had  made  her  promise  never  to  forget  her  chapter,  "for  God's 
book  is  one  you  need  never  be  ashamed  of  reading,  dear,"  she  had  said, 
"and  some  day  you  will  find  how  much  it  has  helped  you." 

vSo  quickly  diving  into  her  trunk  for  her  Bible,  Rhoda  replied: 
"I  promised  my  mother  I  would,  and  really  there  are  some  very  good 
stories  in  it,  you  know.     I  am  reading  about  Joseph  now." 

"Oh  are  you  ?"  Well,  if  it  isn't  too  long,  suppose  you  read  it  aloud 
suggested  Mildred  rather  ungraciously. 

The  next  night  Mildred  was  ready  for  the  following  chapter,  and 
before  long  they  took  turns  reading  every  night*  which  habit  they 
kept  up  all  during  Rhoda's  stay. 

And  when  ATildred  told  her,  the  last  night  they  were  together, 
that  she  really  had  enioyed  reading  about  Joseph,  and  there  must  be 
other  stories  in  the  Bible  just  as  good,  so  after  this  she  was  always 
going  to  read  a  chapter  by  herself,  Rhoda  felt  very  happy  indeed  that 
she  had  not  been  ashamed  of  the  gospel  of  Christ. — Margaret  Warren. 


Tim  CHILDREN'S  FRIEx\'D.  541 

A  BOY  THAT  WOULD  NOl  GIVE  UP. 

The  energy  that  wins  success  begins  to  develop  very  early  in  life. 
The  characteristics  of  the  boy  will  commonly  prove  those  of  the  man, 
and  the  best  characteristics  of  young  life  should  be  encouraged  and 
educated  in  the  wisest  possible  manner.  The  following  story  illustrates 
this  truth : 

Said  Judge  P — :  About  thiry  years  ago  I  stepped  into  a  bookstore 
in  Cincinnati  in  search  of  some  books  that  I  wanted.  While  there, 
,  a  little  ragged  boy,  not  over  twelve  years  of  age,  came  in  and  inquired 
for  a  geography. 

"Plenty  of  them,"  was  the  salesman's  reply. 

"How  much  do  they  cost?" 

"One  dollar,  my  lad." 

"I  did  not  know  they  were  so  much." 

He  turned  to  go  out,  and  even  opened  the  door,  but  closed  it 
again,  and  came  back. 

"IVe  got  sixty-one  cents,"  said  he:  "could  you  let.  me  have 
a  geography  and  wait  a  little  while  for  the  rest  of  the  money?" 

How  eager  his  little  bright  eyes  looked  for  an  answer,  and  how 
he  seemed  to  shrink  within  his  ragged  clothes,  when  the  man,  not 
very  kindly,  told  him  he  could  not.  The  disappointed  little  fellow 
looked  up  at  me  with  a  very  poor  attempt  to  smile  and  left  the  store. 
I  followed   him  and  overtook  him. 

"And  what  now?"  I  asked. 

"Try  another  place,  sir." 

"Shall  I  go  too,  and  see  how  you  succeed?" 

"Oh,  yes,  if  you  like,"  said  he  in  surprise. 

Four  different  stores  I  entered  with  him,  and  each  time  he  was 
refused. 

"Will  you  try  again?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,  sir,  I  shall  try  them  all,  or  I  should  not  know  whether 
I  could  get  one." 

We  entered  the  fifth  store,  and  the  little  fellow  walked  up  man- 
fully and  told  the  gentleman  just  what  he  wanted,  and  how  much 
he  had. 

"You  want  the  book  very  much  ?"  asked  the  proprieter. 

"Yes,  very  much." 

"Why  do  you  want  it  so  very  much?" 

"To  study,  sir.  I  can't  go  to  school,  and  I  study  when  I  can  at 
home.  All  the  boys  have  got  one,  and  they  will  get  ahead  of  me.  Be- 
sides, my  father  was  a  sailor,  and  I  want  to  learn  of  the  places  where 
he  used  to  go." 

"Well,  'my  lad,  I  will  tell  you  what  I  will  do.  I  will  let  you  have 
a  new  geography,  and  you  can  pay  me  the  remainder  of  the  money 
when  you  can,  or  I  will  let  you  have  one  that  is  not  quite  new  for 
fifty  cents." 


542  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

"Are  the  leaves'  all  in  it,  and  just  like  the  others,  only  not  new?" 

Yes,   just   like   the   new   one." 

"It  will  do  just  as  well,  then,  and  I  will  have  eleven  cents  left 
towards  buying  some  other  books.  I  am  glad  they  did  not  let  me  have 
one  at  the  other  places." 

Last  year  I  went  to  Europe  on  one  of  the  finest  vessels  that  ever 
ploughed  the  waters  of  the  Atlantic.  We  had  beautiful  weather  until 
very  near  the  end  of  the  voyage;  then  came  a  terrible  storm  that 
would  have  sunk  all  on  board  had  it  not  been  for  the  captain.  Every 
spar  was  laid  low,  the  rudder  was  useless,  and  a  great  leak  ha(\ 
shown  itself,  threatening  to  fill  the  ship.  The  crew  were  all  strong, 
willing  men,  and  the  mates  were  all  practical  seamen  of  the  first 
class;  but  after  pumping  for  one  whole  night,  and  the  water  still 
gaining  upon  them,  they  gave  up  in  despair,  and  prepared  to  take  the 
boats,  though  they  might  have  known  no  small  boat  could  live  in  such 
a  sea. 

The  captain  who  had  been  below  with  his  chart,  came  up.  He  saw 
how  matters  stood,  and  with  a  voice  that  I  distinctly  heard  above 
the  roar  of  the  tempest,  ordered  every  man  to  his  post. 

"I  will  land  you  safe  art  the  dock  in  Liverpool,"  said  he,  "if  you 
will  be  men." 

He  did  land  us  safely,  but  the  vessel  sank,  moored  to  the  dock. 
The  captain  stood  on  the  deck  of  the  sinking  vessel  receiving  thanks 
and  blessings  of  the  passengers  as  they  passed  down  the  gang-plank. 
As  I  passed  he  grasped  my  hand  and  said: 

"Judge  P — ,  do  you  recognize  me  ?" 

I  told  him  that  I  was  not  aware  that  I  ever  saw  him  until  I  stepped 
aboard  his  vessel. 

"Do  you  remember  that  boy  in  Cincinnati?" 

"Very  well,  sir.     William  Haverly." 

"I  am  he,"  he  said.     "God  bless  you!" 

And  God  bless  noble  Captain  Haverly. — Young  Folks'  Weekly. 


THE  HICKORY  NUT. 

A  little  brown  baby,  round  and  wee, 
With  kind  winds  to  rock  him,  slept  high  in  a  tree. 
And  he  grew  and  he  grew  till,  oh,  dreadful  to  say! 
He  tumbled  right  out  of  his  cradle  one  day, 
Down,  down  from  the  tree-top,  a  terrible  fall! 
But  the  queer  little  fellow  was  not  hurt  at  all: 
And  sound  and  sweet  he  lies  in  the  grass. 
And  there  you  will  find  him  whenever  you  pass. 

— Selected. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND  543 


THURLOW  WEED'S  BOYHOOD. 

The  want  of  shoes,  which,  as  the  snow  was  deep,  w^as  no  small  ph 
vation,  was  the  only  drawback  to  my  happiness.  I  used,  however, 
to  tie  pieces  of  old  rag  carpet  around  my  feet,  and  get  along  chop- 
ping  wood  and  gathering  sap.  But  when  the  Spring  advanced,  and 
bare  ground  appeared  in  spots,  I  threw  off  the  old  carpet  incumbrance 
and  did  my  work  barefooted. 

There  is  much  leisure  time  for  boys  who  are  making  maple-sugar, 
and  this  time  I  devoted  to  reading  when  I  could  get  to  books.  I 
borrowed  books  whenever  and  wherever  I  could,  for  they  were  very 
scarce. 

Once  I  heard  of  a  neighbor,  three  miles  off,  who  had  borrowed 
from  a  still  more  distant  neighbor  a  book  of  great  interest,  and  I  set 
off,  barefooted,  in  the  snow  to  obtain  the  treasure.  There  were  spots 
of  bare  ground  upon  which  I  would  stop  to  warm  my  feet.  And 
there  were  also  along  the  road  occasional  lengths  of  log  fence  from 
which  the  snow  had  melted,  and  upon  which  it  was  a  luxury  to  walk. 

On  my  promise  that  the  book  should  be  neither  torn  nor  soiled,  it 
was  lent  to  me.  I  was  too  happy  on  my  return  to  think  of  snow  or 
my  naked  feet.  Candles  were  luxuries  in  those  days,  and  I  read  my 
treasure,  "The  History  of  the  French  Revolution,"  lying  on  my  back, 
my  body  in  the  sugar-house  and  my  head  outside,  where  a  fat  pine 
knot  was  blazing. — Autobiography  of  Thurlow  Weed. 


A  VOICE  FROM  OCTOBER. 

Why,  I  am  October,  it's  easy  to  see ! 
Some  people  there  are  w^ho  are  fonder  of  me 
Than  of  other  fall  months;  now  how  can  this  be? 
List — and  Til  tell  if  you  wish  me  to  say — 
It*s  all  on  account  of  my  extra  day! 

Tis  September's  endeavor  to  bring  you  in  line 
For  the  work  of  the  year.    But  I  hate  to  confine 
You  too  much.     Now,  go  nutting  and  tramping  about 
On  my  brightest  after  school  hours  are  out. 

For  my  days  are  arranged   A'ith  special  care 
To  give  you  a  chance  for  the  out-of-door  air. 
Be  sure  I  would  like  to  help  you  alway 
To  enjoy  to  the  full  both  your  study  and  play. 

— Selected. 


544  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

BOSS  HARRY. 

BY  PAGE  MILBURN 

Harry  Boughton  was  an  apprentice  in  a  railroad  machine  shop. 
His  father  was  a  machinist  and  had  been  working  at  a  lathe  in  that 
same  shop  for  a  number  of  years.  Harry  had  had  a  common-school 
education,  was  a  youth  of  strong  physique,  an  evenly  balanced  disposi- 
tion, an  excellent  character,  and  an  uncommon  amount  of  common 
sense. 

One  day  his  pastor  met  him  on  the  path  leading  up  over  the  hill 
whereon  stood  the  parsonage  and  beyond  which  Harry  lived  with  his 
parents. 

**How  much  longer  have  you  to  serve  as  an  apprentice,  Ham?" 
was  one  of  the  questions  the  pastor  asked. 

"About  a  year  and  a  half,''  responded  Harry. 

"Then  what?"  abruptly  asked  the  preacher-friend. 

"Then  what?  Why  I  shall  then  be  a  journeyman,  and  will  be 
given  a  lathe  like  father's." 

"Then  what?"  repeated  the  pastor. 

"I  don't  think  that  I  understand  you.  But  I  shall  get  good  wages, 
and — "  Then  Harry  stopped,  blushing  like  a  girl. 

The  pastor,  who  knew  of  this  young  apprentice's  high  regard 
for  a  certain  young  lady  in  the  Sunday  school,  would  have  understood, 
the  reason  for  the  hesitation,  the  breaking  off  of  the  sentence. 

"And  then  what?"  persisted  the  pastor,  who  was  thinking  of  Harry 
the  workman  and  not  of  any  matrimonial  prospects  he  might  be  en- 
tertaining. 

By  this  time  Harry  Boughton  was  puzzled,  moreover  a  little 
embarrassed,  for  he  began  to  think  that  his  pastor  was  tantalizing  him. 

"I'll  explain  what  I  mean,  Harry.  How  long  has  Wilton  Jack- 
son, one  of  our  best  young  men,  been  working  in  these  shops,  and  at 
the  same  lathe?  About  fifteen  years,  hasn't  he?  Is  he  any  further 
on  than  at  the  start?  Does  he  do  any  more?  Does  he  Imow  any 
more  ?  And  there's  old  man  Alderman,  who  spends  his  days  measuring 
out  oil  in  the  oil  house.  Has  he  not  been  doing  the  same  thing  ever 
since  these  shops  were  built?  Are  you  going  to  follow  in  their  foot- 
steps?" 

"Well  Mr.  Van  Dyke,'  responded  Harry,  "I  don't  know  what 
else  is  ahead  of  me.  Certain  men  at  the  head  of  things  have  influence 
and  I  have  none." 

"But  when  these  head  men  move  away  or  die,  who  will  take  their 
places  ?  Do  you  want  me  to  tell  you  ?  Men  who  know  how  to  do 
the  work  they  do  or  have  the  capacity  and  willingness  for  the  mo?t 
important  positions." 

Harrv  Boughton  was  beginning  to  look  as  if  a  new  idea  wa^ 
creeping  into  his  mind.     He  stopped  in  the  path  and,  hanging  his 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIENi..  545 

head  and  scratching  the  cinderpath  with  the  toe  of  his  boot,  as  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  doing  when  giving  his  whole  mind  to  any  thought, 
listened  to  his  friend's  counsel. 

"Now  why  not  get  down  to  study?  Buy  some  books  on  me- 
chanics and  study  them.  Know  something  about  how  machines  are 
made  and  the  forces  that  run  them.  I  do  not  know  much  about  these 
things  myself,  but  I  know  that  other  men  do,  and  that  there  are  books 
about  such  things  written  for  just  such  fellows  as  you." 

The  seed  was  sown  in  good  soil,  and  it  brought  forth  abundant 
fruit,  as  we  shall  see  further  on.  Harry  got  down  to  hard  study.  He 
told  no  one  outside  his  own  home  (except  one  little  lady)  what  he 
was  doing,  but  kept  his  own  counsel.  When  he  did  not  appear  at  the 
company's  store  or  at  the  railroad  station  as  often  as  formerly,  the 
idlers  passed  the  word  that  Harry  was  "doin'  a  powerful  sight  of 
co'tin' "  these  days.  Little"  did  they  know  that  he  was  preparing 
himself  for  a  revolution  in  the  shops  where  they  made  their  living. 

Mr.  Van  Dyke  moved  away  and  had  no  opportunity  to  visit  that 

little  dirty  old  railroad  town  for  several  years.    He  dropped  down  into 

it  one  day  at  the  dinner  hour.    After  a  cordial  greeting  from  the  men 

at  the  station,  he  enquired  for  his  young  friend  Harry  Boughton. 

"Does  he  still  live  here?     And  is  he  still  working  in  the  shops?" 

"Live  here?"  responded  an  old  man,  a  dignified  old  Irish  gentle- 
man who  for  many  years  had  held  the  lofty  position  of  messenger, 
and  whose  business  it  was  to  run  errands  for  the  officers  of  the 
road.  "Live  here?  Well,  I  guess  he  does.  Does  anybody  live  here? 
Boys,  this  foine  gintleman  of  the  cloth  is  inquirin'  if  Boss  Harry  lives 
here.  You'll  be  pardonin'  me,  Misther  Van  Doike,  fer  laffin  at  yer  river- 
ence,  but  ye  tickled  me  ole  Irish  ribs  with  the  silly  question.  Don't  ye 
know  that  our  bye  Harry  is  the  head  mon  in  the  shops?  Yis,  he's  that 
very  thing,  the  master  of  the  shops.  He's  head  of  every  blessed  thing, 
is  he,  exceptin'  and  leavin'  out  the  com'ny  itself.  He'll  he  powerful 
pleased  to  see  ye." 

Harry  was  soon  found,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  whole  story  of 
his  progress  came  out.  He  told  it  in  broken  sentences  as  he  went  in  and 
out  among  the  workmen  and  the  machinery,  giving  advice  here  and 
an  order  there,  or  answering  a  question  of  some  one  seeking  informa- 
tion. His  calm,  dignified  freedom  with  all  and  the  universal  respect 
shown  him  were  very  marked. 

"I  owe  my  rise  to  you,"  said  Harry  to  his  former  pastor.  "After 
you  left  our  town,  I  continued  to  study  books  and  machines.  I  sub- 
scribed for  a  mechanical  magazine.  I  studied  my  own  machine.  I 
learned  how  to  take  care  of  it  and  repair  it  when  necessary.  The  of- 
ficials in  some  way  found  out  that  I  knew  something  about  mechanics. 
I  would  frequently  be  called  on  to  give  advice  about  repair  work  and 
new  machines.  When,  a  little  over  two  years  ago,  the  company  in- 
stalled an  electric  plant  in  the  shops  for  lighting  purposes,  men  came  on 
with  the  dynamo  to  set  it  up.     I  was  assigned  to  them  as  a  laborer  to 


546  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

assist  in  setting  it  up.  I  knew  nothing  of  dynamos.  I  had  never  seen 
one.  I  was  naturally  curious  and  I  improved  my  chance  by  asking 
questions.  I  learned  the  name  of  each  part,  saw  how  the  parts  were 
joined,  and  the  men  very  kindly  told  me  the  use  of  each  part.  I  wrote 
down  in  a  book  each  night  the  facts  told  me  during  the  day.  I  did  not 
know  what  good  it  would  do  me,  but  I  felt  that  it  was  the  thing  to  do. 

"A  few  months  ago  our  company  decided  to  extend  the  lighting 
through  the  town  and  principal  residences.  A  larger  dynamo  was 
ordered.  Our  president  asked  the  manufacturers  to  send  men  on  to  set 
up  the  machine,  but  they  replied  that  there  was  a  man  in  our  shops 
who  knew  about  their  dynamos,  and  they  would  not  be  compelled  to 
send  workmen  from  their  factory.  They  were  very  busy,  anyhow.  Of 
course  I  did  not  know  anything  about  the  correspondence  until  the 
whole  business  was  over.  Much  to  my  surprise,  I  was  asked  whether  I 
thought  I  could  set  the  machine  up.  I  thought  I  could,  and  I  was 
given  two  helpers,  and  I  'made  a  try'  at  it.  There  it  was,  dumped 
in  the  yard,  the  various  parts  boxed  up.  I  know  that  our  president 
had  some  doubts  about  my  success,  and  I  confess  to  you  I  had  a  few 
myself.  But  there  wasn't  anything  else  to  do.  I  succeeded,  I  set  up 
the  dynamo*  strung  the  wires  wherever  required,  and  one  night,  when 
I  thought  ever}i:hing  waa  in  ship-shape,  I  turned  on  the  current,  and  as 
the  lights  flashed  out  all  over  town  in  residences  and  on  the  streets 
I  could  have  shouted  with  joy.  Well,  the  gist  of  the  whole  business  i> 
I  was  given  charge  of  the  electric  plant  and — O,  yes.  you  know  it,  do 
you?  Who  told  you?  Irish  Mike?  Bless  his  old  heart,  he's  'the 
noblest  Roman  of  them  all.'  He  thinks  I'm  a  miracle.  Yes,  I  am  now 
the  master  of  the  machine  shops.  I  am  kept  very  busy  and  have  a  great 
deal  of  responsibility,  and  sometimes  wish  that  I  could  get  back  to  my 
lathe  over  yonder  beside  father's,  but  I  haven't  any  complaint  to  make." 

"How  do  the  other  boys  treat  you?"  asked  Mr.  Van  Dyke. 

"All  right.  They  are  all  my  friends.  They  call  me  *Boss  Harr)/ 
I  haven't  any  reason  to  put  on  any  airs.  I  have  not  any  aristocratic  blood 
in  my  veins.  Let  those  who  like  to  play  the  aristocrat  do  it.  I  am  too 
busy  with  my  work  and  raising  my  family  to  bother  about  such  antics. 
Come  to  see  me.  Nothing  is  too  good  for  the  man  that  gave  my  mind 
a  shaking  up.  You  started  me,  and  some  of  t)iese  days  I  hope  to  be 
able  to  return  the  favor  by  giving  some  other  young  fellow  a  good 
thought  for  a  'starter.^ 


t  ft 


WASTED  TIME. 


The  boy  who  spends-  his  time  reading  the  so-called  detective 
stories  that  are  printed  by  the  thousands,  is  not  only  wasting  his  time, 
but  getting  entirely  wrong  impressions.  There  are  no  such  detecti\^ 
described  by  these  publications.  None  of  the  adventures  happen  or 
could  happen.  The  men  who  write  such  stuff,  and  the  men  who  publish 
them,  take  the  bovs  of  America  for  a  lot  of  idoits. — The  American  Boy. 


le  Little  Left-over  Doll  • 

u  — 


LUCIA  CHASE  BELL. 

It  was  only  the  second  Tuesday  evening  in  October,  but  Mr. 
Penny,  the  notion-store  man,  had  his  store  brightly  lighted,  and  had 
begun  to  display  things  that  looked  like  Christmas  things  in  his  window. 
On  this  particular  evening  it  had  a  string  of  dolls ;  paper-mache  dolls, 
rubber  dolls,  kid  dolls,  wax  dolls  and  china  dolls.  Some  of  them  were 
left-overs  from  last  Christmas  time,  and  had  lain  all  summer  in  dusty 
boxes  under  the  counter.  None  of  the  dolls  were  dressed,  and  they 
fairly  shivered  on  their  string  as  the  wind  crept  in  around  the  warped 
frame  of  Mr.  Penny's  old  window.  The  left-overs  seemed  to  shiver 
the  most.  They  knew  so  well  what  it  would  be,  to  hang  there  all 
night  long  in  the  frosty  air.  The  new  dolls  all  smiled  sweetly  and  did 
not  seem   to   mind. 

Sometimes  a  group  of  children  would  stop  in  front  of  the  window 
to  point  at  the  dolls,  and  "choose."  Sometimes  they  would  "choose" 
for  an  hour  and  the  new  dolls  kept  on  smiling  the  sweetest  smiles, 
for  each  felt  certain  that  it  would  soon  be  her  turn  to  go.  But  the  chil- 
dren would  skip  away  at  last  without  buying  a  single  one. 

This  evening  when  the  dolls  were  shivering  on  their  string,  Miss 
Patty  Rosywinkle  and  Miss  Polly  Rosywinkle  across  the  way  sat 
down  beside  their  clean  old  polished  stove  to  enjoy  the  warmth  of  the 
fire  and  see  its  pretty  glow  through  the  little  mica  panes  in  the  stove- 
doors,  before  lighting  the  lamp. 

"I  think  rd  like  the  cold  evenings  better,"  said  Miss  Patty,  "if 
Mr.  Penny  wouldn't  hang  up  that  row  of  dolls  all  naked  in  his  win- 
dow over  there.    They  do  look  so  cold!" 

Miss  Patty  and  Miss  Polly  both  turned,  in  the  dark,  and  looked 
through  their  window  at  Mr.  Penny's  shop.  And  there  hung  the  dolL? 
in  a  row,  and  they  did  look  very  cold.  z 

"If  you  don't  beat  all,  Patty,  about  those  dolls,"  said  Miss  Polly. 
"An  old  woman  like  you !" 

"I'm  only  as  old  as  I  feel,"  said  Miss  Patty,  "and  I  feel  just 
as  I  always  did  about  dolls." 

The  next  evening,  when  they  were  coming  home  from  praver-meet- 


548  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

ing,  the  air  was  sharper  than  ever.  The  naked  dolls  in  Mr.  Penny's 
window  still  shivered,  and  Miss  Patty  held  Miss  Polly's  arm  and 
compelled  her  to  stop  and  look.  "I  should  thing  he  might  have  some* 
body  dress  them,"  she  said ;  and  then  she  pointed  to  one  of  the  left-over 
dolls  at  the  end  of  the  row.  It  had  a  darling  little  red  mouth  with  a 
pleading  smile,  and  soft  brown  eyes,  and  loose  fluffy  yellow  hair  tied 
with  a  blue  ribbon,  and  dimples  in  its  little  pink  elbows,  and  a  neck  that 
looked  plump  and  soft. 

"I  have  a  great  mind  to  buy  that  one !"  said  Miss  Patty.  And  then 
she  walked  straight  into  the  shop  and  bought  the  doll.  She  carried  it 
home  cuddled  under  her  cloak,  and  there  she  wrapped  it,  as  quickly 
as  she  could,  in  the  Roman  silk,  off  the  back  of  the  velvet  chair,  and 
put  it  on  the  chair  cushion  in  front  of  the  fire. 

It  is  a  pretty  doll!"  Miss  Polly  acknowledged. 

*'Of  course,"  said  Miss  Patty,  with  a  faint  blush  in  her  cheeks, 
"you  know  I  don't  really  mean  to  keep  it.  I  shall  give  it  to  our 
little  niece,  Gertrude,  for  a  Christmas  present,  if  you'll  help  me 
prepare   its   wardrobe." 

"That's  a  good  plan,"  said  Miss  Polly. 

The  next  evening  they  began.  They  found  scraps  of  fine  cambric 
and  bought  some  fairy  little  lace  edgings,  and  Miss  Patty  wore  her 
daintest  white  apron  for  dolly  to  lie  upon  in  her  lap  while  she  was 
being  fitted.  They  snipped  and  tucked  and  gathered  and  hemmed, 
and  eleven  o'clock  struck  before  they  knew  it.  "Mercy  me — eleven!" 
cried  Miss  Patty.  She  felt  almost  wicked,  and  instantly  began  putting 
away  the  things  in  a  little  box. 

Then  she  laid  the  box  away  in  the  bottom  drawer  of  the  old 
mahogany  chiffonier.  The  doll's  neck  and  its  little  arms  were  bare. 
She  shoved  the  drawer  back  to  its  place  and  be^an  to  put  the  room  in 
order,  and  Miss  Polly  went  away  to  bed. 

When  Miss  Patty  was  all  through  with  the  room,  she  stood  by  the 
fire  a  minute  and  looked  at  the  chiffonier.  And  then  she  walked  to  it 
and  opened  the  drawer  and  lifted  the  cover  of  the  box  and  laid  her 
own  little  silk  shoulder-shawl  over  the  doll  and  tucked  it  in  all  around 
its  neck  like  a  blanket. 

Then  she  too,  went  to  bed. 

It  took  six  evenings  to  finish  the  doll's  things.  "I  should  just 
love  to  see  Gertrude  when  she  gets  the  box,"  Miss  Patty  said,  on  the 
last  evening. 

*So  I  should !"  said  Miss  Polly,  for  she  had  grown  quite  fond 
of  the  doll  herself. 

There  was  not  another  thing  to  do  for  the  doll.  It  had  cunning 
nightgowns,  and  wrappers,  and  little  crocheted  jackets,  and  embroidered 
shoulder-blankets,  and  a  white  cloak  embroidered  in  blue.  Before  they 
went  to  bed  they  packed  the  doll  with  all  its  things  in  a  strong  box 
to  send  by  express,  and  cleared  away  all  the  snippings  and  scraps,  and 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  549 

addressed  the  box,  and  in  the  morning  the  expressman  came  and  took 
it  away. 

The  doll's  journey  lasted  four  days.  On  the  fourth  day,  as  they 
sat  at  tea,  said  Miss  Patty  to  Miss  Polly,  "Now  the  box  has  just  about 
reached  Gertrude.  Probably  they're  opening  it  about  now — perhaps 
she  has  dolly  in   her  hands  this  minute!" 

And  the  doll  had  reached  Gertrude.  But  it  was  a  good  thing 
that  her  aunts  could  not  see  how  their  niece  looked  nor  hear  what 
she  said.  All  the  rest  of  the  family  were  crowding  around,  exclaiming, 
'*\\'hat  a  beautiful  doll !  Did  you  ever  see  anything  so  lovely !  How 
dear  of  Aunt  Patty  and  Aunt  Polly." 

Gertrude  had  a  big  book  under  her  arm.  It  was  open,  and 
her  arm  held  it  propped  upon  her  hip.  She  did  not  put  the  book  down, 
nor  did  she  take  the  doll  in  her  hands. 

"I  don't  care  for  dolls,"  she  said,  glancing  at  her  present,  'though 
it's  very  nice  of  Aunt  Polly  and  Aunt  Patty  to  send  it." 

Then  she  went  back  to  the  window-seat  where  she  had  been 
reading,  and  bent  her  head  over  the  book  again. 

Gertrude's  mother  really  felt  grieved,  and  Gertrude's  older  sisters, 
and  even  her  father,  were  shocked  to  witness  Gertrude's  behavior. 

"The  trouble  is,"  said  her  mother,  sadly,  "she's  crazy  to  read! 
She  can't  see  or  hear,  half  the  time,  on  account  of  her  book.  It  does 
not  matter  to  her  what  she  reads,  so  she's  reading.  She  reads  in 
school  and  out  of  school.  She  reads  in  bed  at  night,  if  I  don't  watch 
her,  and  on  the  way  to  school,  and  even  in  church,  and  while  she's 
braiding  her  hair,  or  practising!    And  this  is  such  a  lovely  doll!" 

"I  guess  a  girl  can  read  too  much!"  said  Gertrude's  father. 

Gertnide's  sister  Ann  set  the  doll  up  on  the  library  mantel,  and 
soon  the  fire  went  out,  and  every  one  went  to  bed,  and  the  house  grew 
still  and  very  cold. 

No  one  could  imagine  the  feelings  of  the  doll,  after  having  lived 
with  Gertrude's  aunts.  The  mantel  grew  icier  and  icier.  Chill  draughts 
sifted  down  from  the  chimney,  fluttering  its  little  petticoats  and  chill- 
ing its  toes.  All  at  once  a  long  rattling  scraping  jingling  noise  tore 
the  air.  It  was  only  the  clock's  alarm  gong,  but  it  seemed  a  frightful 
sound  to  the  doll.  And  presently  the  clock  struck  twelve  times  and 
made  the  mantle  tremble,  and  the  poor  doll  almost  slid  over  the  edge 
of  the  mantle  with  fright.  This  was  worse  than  it  ever  had  been  in 
Mr.  Penny's  window.  There  you  could  not  fall  off  your  string.  It 
seemed  ages  till  morning.  But  at  last,  Jenny,  the  maid,  came  and  built 
k  fire  in  the  grate — a  hot  fire  that  blistered  the  doll's  toes,  and  scorched 
its  petticoats. 

Soon  Gertrude  came  too  and  curled  herself  up  on  the  window- 
seat  with  her  book,  but  she  never  looked  toward  the  fire.  The  little 
doll  never  felt  so  lonesome  in  her  life.  Suddenly  the  door-bell  rang 
and  nobody  would  go  to  the  door.    The  doll  grew  very  nervous,  and 


550  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

wished  she  could  go  herself.     But  at  last  Gertrude  went,  with  her 
book  on  her  hip  and  saying  to  herself,  "Who  can  that  be,  so  early?" 

She  opened  the  door,  and  a  sweet  little  voice  said,  "Good-morning! 
We're  around  collecting  old  dolls  that  you  don't  want.  We  dress  them 
for  the  Children's  Mission  to  give  away  to  the  poor  children  in  the  hos- 
pitals at  Christmas.     Could  you  give  us  any,  please?" 

Two  little  girls  stood  there,  smiling  up  at  her,  with  a  big  basket  full 
of  dolls,  old,  broken,  ragged,  cast-off  dolls. 

"I  can  give  you  a  new  one,  all  dressed,"  said  Gertrude,  "I'll  be 
glad  to.  Wait  here  a  minute."  She  went  in  and  took  the  doll  off  the 
mantel,  carelessly,  with  one  hand,  and  carried  it  to  the  door  and  laid 
it  in  the  basket.  Then  she  went  back  and  brought  the  box  filled  with 
the  doll's  beautiful  wardrobe. 

The  little  girls  could  hardly  speak  for  one  minute.  Then  one  of 
them  cried  out,  "Oh — will  you  give  us  this  doll?  And  all — these 
clothes !  We  never  heard  of  such  a  thing !  To  give  away  such  a  lovely 
doll !  You  must  want  to  make  somebody  feel  very  glad !"  And  the 
eyes  of  both  shone  on  Gertrude. 

"Oh,  I  don't  care  for  dolls — ^that's  all"  said  honest  Gertrude,  and 
then  she  turned  away  with  her  book  and  shut  the  door. 

,  The  little  girls  sat  down  on  the  snowy  top-step  and  quickly  put  on 
the  doll's  little  lace  hood  and  its  long  white  cloak.  Then  they  hugged 
it  and  kissed  it,  and  one  carried  it  while  the  other  carried  the  precious 
box  of  clothes.  The  doll  was  warm  and  happy  again.  And  the  little 
girls  danced  rather  than  walked  along  the  street. 

They  went  to  a  certain  ward  in  the  Children's  Hospital  to  the  bed 
of  a  little  crippled  girl  they  knew  with  a  thin  face  and  very  happy  eyes, 
lying  on  her  back.  There  they  placed  the  baby  doll  on  her  arm  with  it<i 
cheek  snuggled  against  hers;  and  every  one  who  came  in  afterward 
heard  her  singing  softly. 

Well,  the  little  lame  girl  with  the  happy  eyes  is  cured  now,  so  that 
she  can  walk,  even  run  and  dance.  But  she  still  lives  at  the  Children's 
Hospital.  She  has  lovely  work  to  do.  It  is  to  cheer  up  little  sick  chil- 
dren who  are  brought  there,  she  and  her  doll.  She  has  no  other  home, 
and  they  love  her  at  the  Hospital.  She  goes  out  into  the  street  even- 
day  to  give  her  doll  fresh  air,  and  to  show  her  to  little  children.  And 
no  doll  in  the  whole  city  has  so  many  friehds  or  does  so  much  good  as 
this  dolly  with  the  pleading  smile  who  was  once  a  left-over  doll. 

Sometime  in  January  the  Rosywinkle  aunts  received  a  polite  note 
from  their  niece,  thanking  them  for  their  Christmas  present,  and  stating 
that  she  had  given  the  doll  to  a  Hospital. 

But  the  Rosywinkle  aunts  never  have  known  that  the  dear  little 
left-over  doll  from  Mr.  Penny's  window  became  a  city  missionary,  nor 
that  she  holds  large  doorstep  meetings  on  many  a  street,  and  does  a 
great  deal  of  good ;  perhaps  they  may  learn  of  it  now.  If  they  do,  they 
will  be  much  pleased. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  551 

BOOKS  AS  OUR  MUTUAL  FRIENDS. 

BY  PROF.  HART,  HARVARD  COLLEGE. 

Books  are  not  only  entertaining;  they  are  wise  friends  who  give 
you  what  you  get  from  few  in  the  flesh — the  best  that  is  in  them.  You 
can  hear  Daniel  Webster's  greatest  speech  any  day ;  you  can  share  the 
sweetest  that  was  in  Nathaniel  Hawthorne  by  reading  his  House  of  the 
Seven  Gables  :you  may  touch  the  deepest  experience  of  Tennyson 
through  his  In  Memoriam.  If  no  man  is  great  to  his  valet,  every  author 
is  great  to  the  reader  who  sees  him  only  at  his  highest.  The  world  is 
enlarged  by  books ;  undying  friendships  are  made  in  books ;  heart  talks 
to  heart  through  books,  and  you  shaU  never  be  contradicted  by  your 
favorite  writer. 

To  be  sure,  books  are  not  the  only  links  between  mind  and  mind ; 
periodicals  and  newspapers  in  some  ways  disturb  the  old-fashioned 
intimacy  between  reader  and  author ;  but  the  writer  in  the  periodicals  is, 
aftr  all,  only  a  visitor  and  not  a  guest  in  your  intellectual  mansions ; 
often  he  is  only  an  entertainer,  who  comes  into  your  drawing  room  to 
give  you  a  pleasant  evening,  and  goes  away  without  your  really  knowing 
what  manner  of  man  he  is.  The  difference  between  the  best  magazine 
and  the  best  book  is  like  that  between  the  agreeable  acquaintance  whom 
you  meet  on  a  railway  train  and  your  twin  sister.  The  newspaper,  on 
the  other  hand,  is  a  piper  in  the  market  place  to  whom  everybody 
listens  for  the  moment,  but  of  whom  nobody  makes  an  intimate  friend. 

First  of  all,  it  is  only  politeness  that  you  should  listen  to  your 
friend's  account  of  himself;  and  the  first  thing  that  the  knowing  man 
does  with  a  new  book  is  to  look  at  the  title-page,  which  is  your  friend's 
name,  and  bears  the  date  of  his  birth ;  to  read  the  preface,  which  is  his 
explanation  for  being,  and  to  run  over  the  table  of  contents,  which 
sums  up  for  you  your  friend's  experience  and  intentions. 

This  gives  you  the  opportunity  at  the  outset  to  disclaim  friendship 
and  repudiate  your  book  if  yoif  see  reason.  For  there  are  as  many  bad 
books  as  bad  people,  which  is  saying  a  great  deal ;  and  the  first  xluty  of 
the  book-reader  is  not  to  read  a  great  many  things  that  come  in  one's 
wav.  There  are  dirty  books  that  soil  the  mind,  and  leave  an  ineffaceable 
f^tain  on  the  memory ;  there  are  untrue  books,  which  set  forth  what  vour 
experience  of  life  tells  you  to  be  false ;  there  are  thousands  of  trivial  and 
useless  books,  which  are  not  worth  the  trouble  of  going  beyond  the 
"front  matter,"  as  the  preliminary  pages  are  called.  The  first  caution 
is  therefore  to  select  your  books  as  you  select  your  friends,  because 
they  have  something  to  contribute  to  you. 

A  good  book  deserves  close  reading ;  classics  like  Emerson's  Essays 
or  Keats's  poems  are  all  of  pure  metal :  if  you  drop  out  a  phrase  or  a 
word,  you  have  maimed  the  thought.  Books  of  that  kind  deserve  the 
compliment  that  you  would  pay  to  a  renowned  friend :  if  he  said  bril- 
liant things  in  conversation,  you  would  listen  to  them  all. 


552  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

In  the  modern  days  of  scientific  research  many  excellent  books  are 
materials  out  of  which  a  few  things  are  to  be  culled  by  the  investigator. 
Macaulay's  History  was  a  book  written  to  be  read  as  a  whole,  yet  the 
busy  student  may  with  profit  select  certain  chapters  as  the  liveliest  and 
the  most  characteristic  of  Macaulay's  mode  of  treatment.  Here  is 
where  the  judgment  of  the  reader  does  him  much  good.  If  Milton 
were  reciting  his  verses  to  you,  you  would  listen  enrapt  so  long  as  he 
would  speak;  but  there  are  few  enthusiasts  who  could  keep  awake 
through  the  whole  of  the  Faerie  Queen,  even  if  Spenser  himself  re- 
cited it. 

After  all,  it  is  the  reader  of  whole  books  that  really  comes  to  know 
his  printed  friends.  "Beware  of  the  man  of  one  book"  is  an  unsafe 
caution.  For  four  or  five  generations  the  one  book  that  the  people  of 
New  England  intimately  knew  was  the  Bible ;  they  knew  it  from  begin- 
ning to  end ;  they  studied  their  alphabet  in  its  initial  letters ;  their  chil- 
dren learned  considerable  parts  of  it  by  heart ;  and  thus  they  filled  their 
minds  with  the  majestic  and  beautiful  language  of  the  Scriptures.  It 
was  precisely  among  those  Bible-saturated  New  England  people  that 
there  sprang  up  about  1830  a  multifarious  literature,  high  in  philosophy, 
in  history,  in  poetry,  in  fiction,  and  in  satire. 

Many  of  the  people  who  knew  the  Bible  also  knew  Shakespeare, 
knew  him  with  that  thoroughness  that  might  be  expected  in  houses 
where  there  was  little  else  to  read.  The  two  together  were  strong  meat 
for  gr^at  minds;  they  were  indeed  the  principal  teachers  of  Abraham 
Lincoln,  who  placed  his  name  among  the  immortals  as  a  writer  of  Eng- 
Hsh  prose.  That  was  a  man  who  loved  to  read  and  to  ponder;  and  one 
of  the  most  delightful  pictures  of  him,  left  in  the  description  of  a  friend, 
shows  him  lying  on  his  back  under  a  tree,  his  long  legs  thrust  up  against 
the  trunk  and  a  book  in  his  hand,  slowly  but  persistently  kicking  him- 
self around  as  the  sun  moved  through  the  heavens,  so  as  to  keep  his 
eves  in  the  shade. 

Reading  a  few  books  is,  however,  only  a  part  of  the  art ;  and  in 
this  period  of  teeming  literature,  when  the  booksellers'  counters  sag 
under  the  weight  of  really  thoughtful  and  well-written  books  of  ever>' 
kind,  the  intensive  knowledge  of  a  few  books  must  be  paralleled  by 
some  acquaintance  with  a  good  many  books.  It  is  an  excellent  scheme 
to  follow  Emerson's  dictum,  "Read  none  but  famed  books,"  so  far  as 
to  read  at  least  one  in  several  groups  of  typical  books.  In  English 
fiction,  be  sure  to  read  one  novel  of  Miss  Bumey,  one  of  Jane  .Austen, 
one  of  Cooper,  as  liberal  in  Indians  and  hairbreadth  escapes  as  possible, 
one  of  Scott,  one  of  Dickens,  one  of  Hawthorne,  one  of  Mrs.  Oliphant. 
one  of  George  Eliot,  one  of  Stevenson,  one  of  Kipling.  Unless  you 
know  these  masters  what  basis  have  you  for  deciding  whether  a  new 
novel  is  good  or  original,  or  worth  spending  time  upon?  So  it  is  with 
other  fields  of  literature;  if  you  have  read  no  Byron,  no  Shelley,  no 
Tennyson,  how  do  you  know  whether  there  are  still  poets? 


THE  CHILDREN'l    FRIEND.  553 


LITTLE  ROSEMARIE'S  EYES. 

BY  KATHERINE  JONES. 

• 

Once  upon  a  time,  a  long  time  ago,  there  was  a  little  girl  named 
Rosemarie.  She  lived  with  her  father  and  mother  in  a  big  house  filled 
with  beautiful  things. 

Rosemarie  had  everything  you  could  think  of  to  give  her  pleasure. 
She  had  six  gold-fish  swimming  in  a  glass  bowl,  and  in  the  bottom  of 
the  bowl  were  pretty  pebbles  where  the  fish  could  lie  down  when  they 
went  to  sleep.  She  had  twelve  different  kinds  of  birds  in  a  brass  cage 
almost  as  big  as  a  room ;  some  were  green  and  yellow,  some  were  red, 
some  were  grey,  and  the  prettiest  of  all  were  two  little  Japanese  robins 
— snow  white.     She  had  a  Guinea  pig  and  a  kitten. 

You  will  think  Rosemarie  could  hardly  have  wanted  anything 
more,  but  besides  all  these  pets  she  had  l  charming  doll-house  that  her 
mother  had  given  her,  fitted  up  with  everything  just  exactly  like  a 
grown  person's  house.  Rosemarie's  doll  was  named  Margery  Gwen- 
dolin  Gladys  and  she  had  everything  a  doll  could  wish.  She  even  had 
a  telephone  and  toothpowder !  She  was  a  lovely  doll  and  always  looked 
pleasant  and  good-natured,  even  when  Rosemarie  neglected  her.  Once, 
for  two  whole  days  Margery  Gwendolin  Gladys  lay,  face  downward, 
under  Rosemarie's  bed,  but  when  Rosemarie  found  her  there  she  still 
looked  pleasant  and  as  though  she  had  had  plenty  to  eat  all  the  time. 

Rosemarie  was  very  fond  of  her  doll,  she  liked  to  watch  her  gold 
fish  and  birds,  and  she  had  great  fun  playing  with  her  Guinea  pig  and 
kitten.  Still,  she  was  not  perfectly  happy.  One  thing  Rosemarie 
wanted,  and  didn't  have,  and  never  could  have,  was  blue  eyes.  She 
had  very  pretty  eyes — but  they  were  brown. 

Rosemarie's  mother  had  read  her  stories  in  which  the  fairies  often 
changed  ugly  people  into  beautiful  ones,  brown  eyes  into  blue,  or  black 
hair  into  golden,  but  Rosemarie  did  not  really  believe  that  she  would 
ever  meet  a  fairy. 

Rosemarie  used  to  take  the  fairy  book  out  into  the  garden  to  read 
to  herself  there ;  but  whenever  her  mother  saw  her  reading,  the  book 
was  upside  down,  so  you  see  she  didn't  really  read — just  looked  at  the 
page. 

One  day  when  Rosemarie  had  been  sitting  a  long  time  under  the 
trees,  pretending  to  read  and  thinking  of  the  fairies,  a  very  wonderful 
tiling  happened.  The  air  was  so  warm  and  sweet,  and  there  were  so 
many  insects  about  in  the  grass  singing  lullabys  to  their  babies,  that 
Rosemarie  had  almost  dropped  off  to  sleep  when  she  suddenly  heard  a 
funny,  piping  voice  say,  "How  do  you  do?" 

Rosemarie  looked  up  from  her  book,  and  there,  in  front  of  her, 
was  the  dearest,  tiniest  fairy  you  ever  saw!  She  had  on  cunning  red 
shoes  with  silver  buckles,  a  red  silk  dress  with  p  tidy  green  apron,  a 


ROSEMARIE  AND  THE  FAIRY. 

red  hat,  and  in  one  hand  she  carried  a  fan  and  in  the  other  a  ridii^ 
whip.     She  looked  just  as  you'd  expect  a  fairy  to  look. 

Rosemarie  was  so  surprised  she  couldn't  speak ;  so  the  fairj*  said 
again.  "How  do  you  do?" 

Then  Rosemarie  replied,  "I'm  quite  well,  I  thank  you;  how  are 
you,  and  where  did  you  come  from?" 

The  fairy  smiled  at  Rosemarie  and  said,  "I  came  from  the  Land 


"( 

«' 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  555 

of  Love,  and  once  a  year  I  visit  every  little  girl  in  the  world  to  find  out 
if  she  is  perfectly  happy,  and  to  see  if  I  can  do  anything  for  her.  Are 
you  happy,  dear  Rosemarie?" 

Rosemarie  answered,  "No." 

"What!"  cried  the  fairy,  "haven't  you  six  gold-fish  and  don't  you 
feed  them  every  day?" 

"Yes,"  said  Rosemarie,  "I  have  six  gold-fish,  but  I  don't  feed  them. 
Katie  does  that." 

"Feed  them  yourself,"  said  the  fairy,  "every  day !" 

"Then  haven't  you  twelve  birds,  and  don't  you  give  them  water 
every  morning?"  continued  the  fairy. 

"Yes,"  said  Rosemarie,  "I  have  twelve  birds,  but  I  don't  give  them 
water  every  morning." 

"Give  them  water!"  said  the.  fairy,  "every  morning!" 

"Haven't  you  a  Guiilea-pig,"  asked  the  fairy,  "and  don't  you  give 
the  dear  little  pig  a  fresh  lettuce  leaf  every  night?" 

"Yes,"  said  Rosemarie,  "I  have  a  Guinea-pig,  but  I  don't  give  it  a 
lettuce  leaf  often." 

'Give  him  a  fresh  lettuce  leaf  every  night !"  said  the  fairy. 
'Haven't  you  a  kitten  too,"  asked  the  fairy,  "and  don't  you  give 
her  a  saucer  of  milk  every  morning?" 

"Yes,"  said  Rosemarie,  "I  have  a  kitten,  but  sometimes  I  forget  to 
give  her  milk."  ' 

"Give  her  a  saucer  of  milk  every  morning!"  said  the  fairy. 

"Then,"  said  the  fairy,  "haven't  you  a  beautiful  doll  that  you  dress 
every  morning  and  undress  and  put  to  bed  every  night  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Rosemarie,  "I  have  a  doll,  but  I  don't  always  dress 
her  and — " 

"Ah!"  said  the  fairy,  "you  should  dress  her  and  love  her  just  as 
your  mother  does  you." 

The  fairy,  pointing  to  the  flowers,  then  said,  "I  suppose  you  have 
lovely  times  picking  bouquets  of  dandelions  for  vour  mother  and 
father?" 

But,  do  you  know,  Rosemarie  felt  so  sad  to  think  she  had  never 
picked  a  bunch  of  dandelions  for  her  mother  or  father  she  couldn't 
answer  at  all.  So  the  fairy  smiled  at  her  again  and  said,  "Pick  dande- 
lions and  pick  them  often,  for  they  quickly  fade!" 

The  fairy  fanned  herself,  for  she  had  grown  warm  from  talking 
so  much,  and  then  said,  "Do  all  I  have  told  you,  and  next  year  when  I 
come  I  know  I'll  find  you  a  happy  little  girl." 

Then  the  fairy  raised  herself  on  tiptoes,  waved  her  riding  whip 
through  the  air,  and  was  preparing  to  fly  away,  when  Rosemarie  sud- 
denly remembered  her  eyes  and  cried  out,  "My  eyes!  my  ugly  brown 
eyes!     Can  you  make  my  eyes  blue?" 

At  that  the  fairy  laughed  so  she  quivered  all  over  like  an  aspen 
leaf  and  said,  "Oh!  my  dear,  your  eyes  aren't  ugly  because  they  are 
brown !     I'll  tell  you  a  secret.     Don't  you  know  how  pretty  the  ponds 


556  THE  CHILDREN'S  .^RIEND. 

and  brooks  are  when  they  reflect  the  sun — how  sparkling  and  bright 
and  beautiful  they  are?  Well,  children's  eyes  are  beautiful  like  that 
when  they  reflect  love.     The  color  doesn't  make  any  difference." 

Smiling  very  kindly  at  little  Rosemarie  she  spread  her  wings  and 
flew  away,  singing  as  she  went, 

"Black  eyes  or  brown, 
Blue  eyes  or  grey — 
All  eyes  are  pretty 
If  they  shine  all  day." 


ROBBIE. 

BY  CLARA  MARCELLE  GREENE. 

Birds  cannot  love  you,  people  say.  Cats;  dogs,  horses,  and  even 
monkeys,  they  say  can  love  you,  but  not  birds. 

Now,  my  children,  let  me  tell  you  about  my  "Robbie,"  and  then 
see  what  you  think  about  it.  Every  word  is  true,  too,  just  as  it  hap- 
pened last  year. 

Children  came  running  to  me  one  summer  day,  calling  out  that  a 
little  bird  had  fallen  from  his  nest,  and  was  dead  on  the  sidewalk  in 
front  of  our  house.  I  hurried  out,  and  picked  up  the  little  thing.  It 
was  a  young  robin,  Tind  he  had  fallen  thirty  feet  from  his  nest  in  an 
elm  tree. 

You  would  think  he  must  surely  have  been  killed,  falling  so  far.  and 
striking  on  the  brick  sidewalk.  But  the  same  Father  who  notices  every 
sparrow's  fall  must  have  saved  poor  little  "Robbie,"  for  he  was  not 
killed,  nor  even  much  hurt.  The  old  birds  were  flying  back  and  forth, 
crying,  and  showing  their  distress  just  as  plainly  as  would  your  father 
and  mother,  if  you  fell  somewhere  and  they  could  not  help  you.  Of 
course,  I  could  not  get  up  there  to  put  him  back  in  the  nest,  so  I  carried 
him  into  the  house,  and  laid  him  in  a  little  basket  on  some  soft  cotton. 
He  was  too  young  to  fly,  and  all  he  did  was  to  open  his  big  red  mouth 
and  cry  every  minute  for  food. 

Now  what  do  you  suppose  I  gave  him,  and  what  do  you  think  I 
fed  him  with?  Bread  and  milk  and  a  teaspoon?  No.  Knife  and 
fork  and  beefsteak?  No,  no,  indeed,  of  course  you  are  not  so  silly  as 
to  think  that.  I  fed  him  wet  meal  with  a  toothpick.  There — wasn't 
that  a  bright  idea?  He  thought  so,  I  guess,  by  the  way  he  swallowed. 
But  in  the  afternoon  he  lay  still,  would  not  eat  nor  open  his  eyes,  and  I 
thought  he  was  going  to  die.  I  knew  he  would,  unless  he  had  his  own 
kind  of  food.  Birds  do  not  like  dough,  they  like — what  do  you  sup- 
pose?    Why,  worms!     There,  isn't  that  horrid?     But  they  do. 

So  I  racked  my  brain  to  think  what  to  do.  I  carried  him  upstairs 
to  a  front  wMndow\  where  was  a  balcony,  right  under  the  elm  branches 
that  held  the  nest.  I  put  the  basket  with  Robbie  in  it  out  in  the  bal- 
cony, and  then  I  got  behind  the  blind  inside  to  watch  and  see  what 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  557 

would  happen.  The  old  mother  bird  stayed  up  on  the  edge  of  her  nest, 
to  take  care  of  the  other  babies,  while  she  peered  down  at  her  baby  in 
the  balcony.  The  father  bird  fluttered  back  and  forth  among  the 
branches,  half  afraid  to  come  down.  But  in  a  few  minutes  he  flew 
down  to  the  ground,  snatched  a  worm  from  the  grass,  flew  back  to  the 
balcony  and  dropped  it  straight  into  the  little  one's  bill,  and  then  rushed 
back  to  his  nest. 

After  that  he  and  the  mother  bird  both  came,  and  inspected  the 
basket,  with  their  jealous  little  heads  first  on  this  side  and  then  on 
that,  but  concluded  it  was  the  best  thing  that  could  be  done,  and  went 
back  happy  to  their  tree. 

Every  morning  I  put  Robbie  out  in  the  balcony,  where  they  fed 
him  all  day»  and  every  night  brought  him  back  to  cover  him  warm  for 
his  sleep.  You  see  he  would  be  cold  out  of  doors,  if  he  missed  his 
mother's  warm  wing. 

By  and  by  he  grew  so  big  that  he  began  to  fly  about  the  balcony. 
T  had  to  put  him  in  a  cage,  because  he  was  not  strong  enough  to  fly 
UD  to  the  nest,  and  he  did  not  know  enough  not  to  flutter  down  to  the 
.eround  and  let  the  cat  get  him.  I  was  afraid  the  cage  would  frighten 
the  father  robin  so  that  he  would  not  feed  him  anv  more,  but  he  had 
confidence  in  my  care,  and  fed  him  right  through  the  bars,  just  the  same. 

When  the  little  brother  and  sister  birdies  up  in  the  nest  got  big 
enough  to  fly  down  on  the  ground  and  pick  up  worms  and  bugs  for 
themselves,  there  was  a  nice  boy  who  used  to  take  Robbie  out  and  put 
him  down  too.  He  would  hop  all  around  and  pick  with  them  till  they 
would  fly  away,  then  he  would  not  fly  away,  but  hop  on  the  nice  boy's 
finger  and  come  riding  into  the  house.  It  seemed  to  me  that  Robbie 
must  have  loved  the  nice  bov  or  he  would  not  have  wanted  to  do  that. 

The  old  birds  did  not  feed  him  any  more,  so  we  let  him  sleep  on  his 
nerch  in. the  cage  nights,  and  fly  all  about  the  house  dav  times.  He 
loved  to  light  on  the  dining  table,  and  hop  among  the  plates,  picking 
up  crumbs.  Many  a  time  he  would  sit  and  eat  from  our  hands,  or  our 
mouths  if  we  would  turn  our  heads.  If  we  forgot,  or  did  not  feed  him 
fast  enough,  he  would  peck  at  our  ears,  or  our  hair.  When  the  nice 
boy,  or  the  nice  boy's  father  would  lie  down  on  the  couch  Robbie  would 
flv  un  and  cuddle  down  inside  their  coat,  or  under  the  lapel,  and  sleep 
as  long  as  they  did. 

But  the  very  sweetest  thing  Robbie  ever  did  was  to  fly  straight  to 
my  room  every  morning  for  a  week  and  stay  with  me  hours,  while  I 
was  sick  in  bed.  As  soon  as  his  cage  was  opened  in  the  morning  he 
swept  with  a  rush,  through  two  other  rooms,  to  mine,  alighted  on  my 
shoulder,  nestled  himself  down  as  close  to  my  face  as  he  could  and 
staved  for  an  hour.  If  he  did  not  love  me,  why  did  he  do  that?  I  am 
sure  we  all  loved  him  very  much.     Would  not  you  ? 

People  may  rob  you  of  your  money,  or  temporal  nossessions,  but 
education,  once  gained,  no  man  can  take  from  you. — Selected. 


558  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


THE  LAMB  THAT  RAN  AWAY. 

It  was  a  wild  hilly  country  where  our  flock  lived,  but  the  turf  was 
sweet,  and  tiny  wild  flowers  grew  among  the  rocks.  There  were  no 
fields  enclosed  by  green  hedges,  to  keep  the  sheep  from  strajing,  and 
sometimes  it  happened  that  one  lost  its  way  and  died. 

This  my  mother  had  told  me;  but  I  did  not  pay  much  heed.  I 
would  never  be  so  foolish,  I  thought,  as  to  leave  my  mother  and  run 
away  alone. 

Our  shepherd  was  a  kind  man.  The  sheep  were  fond  of  him ;  but 
the  lambs  thought  him  too  strict. 

I  had  quite  a  happy  time  playing  with  the  other  lambs  at  "Hide  and 
Seek"  among  the  rocks.  But  after  a  time  I  got  tired  of  that  game; 
I  thought  it  was  stupid  for  a  lamb  of  my  age. 

One  morning  I  noticed  that  the  sun  was  shining  brightly  on  a  dis- 
tant part  of  the  hill,  while  we  were  in  the  shadow  of  a  cloud.  This  put 
it  into  my  head  to  go  and  see  what  it  was  like  there.  It  looked  so  bright 
and  pretty,  and  was  not  so  far  away.  I  would  be  back  again  before 
anyone  found  out  I  had  gone. 

I  looked  about  me ;  all  the  sheep  were  busy  grazing,  and  the  lambs 
playing.     No  one,  not  even  the  shepherd,  saw  me  as  I  went. 

Soon  I  was  far  away  and  I  was  free !  I  could  go  where  I  pleased; 
the  shepherd's  dog  could  not  find  me  here,  I  thought. 

I  had  forgotten  now  about  the  sunny  place  on  the  hillside.  Here 
ever>'thing  seemed  diflferent ;  on  I  ran,  this  way  and  that,  always  won- 
dering what  would  come  next.  What  came  next  was  always  the  same 
— rocks  and  stony  places.  I  wished  there  had  been  a  little  grass  grow- 
ing for  I  was  hungry.  The  white  mist  on  the  hills  made  me  wet  and 
cold  and  frightened. 

If  only  my  mother  would  come  now  and  take  me  home,  I  thought, 
and  shivered ;  it  was  such  a  long  way  to  go  home,  and  I  did  not  know 
which  way  I  had  come.  If  I  called  perhaps  she  might  hear  me;  she 
always  came  when  I  called. 

"Baa !  baa !"  I  bleated  again  and  again.  No  answer  came,  and  1 
was  very  tired.  I  tried  to  find  the  way  I  had  come;  but  I  fell  on  a 
sharp  stone  and  gave  a  cry  of  pain.  Then,  from  somewhere  out  of  the 
mist,  I  heard  my  mother's  voice. 

In  a  moment  I  was  by  her  side ;  now  I  was  safe — she  would  take 
care  of  me. 

Just  then  we  heard  a  screech,  and  the  flapping  of  wings ;  and  we 
saw  coming  down  on  us  a  great  bird  with  a  cruel  beak.  I  turned  giddy 
with  fright.  My  mother  bleated  piteously.  With  another  screech  the 
great  bird  was  upon  me,  fixing  its  claws  in  my  wool. 

But  help  was  at  hand.  Suddenly  there  came  srtlmv  from  behind, 
and  the  eagle  fell  to  the  ground — dead. 

The  shepherd  had  missed  us,  and  guided  by  his  dog,  had  come  just 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  559 

in  time  to  save  us.  He  carried  me  in  his  arms  all  the  way  home.  That 
was  the  last  time  I  ever  tried  to  run  away,  and  by  my  disobedience 
bring  danger  upon  my  mother  and  myself. — Nora  Crombie,  in  The 
Child's  Own  Magazine. 


THE  CHILD  AT  THE  WINDOW. 

"It's  a  daily  sorrow  to  see  Harry  as  he  is.  I  had  hoped  that  our 
son  would  do  such  great  things.*' 

Harry's  mother  laid  her  hand  on  her  husband's  shoulder. 

"Our  poor  little  boy,"  she  said. 

Upstairs  Harry  lay  on  his  couch  in  the  nursery  window.  He  had 
lain  on  his  back  ever  since  he  was  three,  and  now  he  was  seven.  Yet 
Harry  was  not  unhappy;  he  had  friends  and  pleasures  his  father  knew 
nothing  of. 

To  begin  with  there  was  the  old  woman  who  sold  apples  a  little 
way  down  the  street.  She  was  a  sour-faced  old  woman,  but  when  she 
passed  the  house  where  Harry  lived  she  always  used  to  look  up  and 
smile  quite  brightly.  One  bright  summer  morning  he  had  made  her 
acquaintance.  He  had  often  before  seen  her  passing,  but  that  day  he 
raised  his  head  slightly,  and  called  "Good  morning."  At  first  she  had 
looked  annoyed,  but  when  she  saw  the  child's  smiling  face  she  smiled 
too.  After  that  she  never  passed  the  house  without  looking  up.  And 
Harrv  was  always  ready  with  his  greeting. 

Then  there  was  the  postman.  Harry  knew  when  he  was  coming 
before  he  turned  the  street  comer,  for  he  always  whistled  "The  Soldiers 
of  the  Queen."  Harry  longed  above  all  things  to  be  able  to  whistle 
like  him.  He  used  to  wave  his  hand  and  smile  as  soon  as  he  caught 
sight  of  him;  and  even  at  night,  when  the  curtains  were  drawn  and 
Harry  was  safe  in  bed,  he  used  to  listen  for  the  postman's  knock.  There 
was  something  so  nice  and  friendly  in  the  double  rat-tat. 

I^st,  but  not  least,  among  Harry's  friends  was  the  old  man  who 
passed  through  the  street  where  Harry  lived  on  his  way  to  business 
every  morning.  He  had  gone  that  way  for  twenty  years,  yet  he  had 
never  thought  of  looking  up  at  the  house  till  one  morning  he  felt  some- 
thing fall  on  his  hat.  When  he  shook  it  down  he  found  it  was  an 
elephant  from  a  Noah's  Ark. 

At  first  he  was  angry;  but  then,  like  the  old  woman,  when  he  saw 
ine  smiling  child's  face,  he  smiled  too.  Once,  long  ago,  he  had  had  a 
little  son  of  his  own,  and  though  that  son  lived  now  many  thousands 
of  miles  away,  he  still  remembered  him  sometimes  as  he  had  been.  That 
morning  the  little  crossing-sweeper  at  the  corner  of  the  street  was 
surprised  by  the  old  gentleman  stopping  and  giving  him  sixpence. 

One  day  Harry's  little  pale  face  was  not  at  the  window.  The 
apple-woman  wondered  why  the  morning  seemed  more  cheerless  than 
usual  and  in  the  old  gentleman's  office  the  clerks  remarked  that  the 


560  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

master  was  very  "cranky."     The  postman  too  whistled  for  deaf  ears; 
no  little  hand  waved  to  him. 

And  up  in  his  room  little  Harry  was  passing  through  deep  waters. 
A  great  surgeon  had  come  many  hundreds  of  miles  to  do  an  operation* 
which  would  cither  make  him  quite  well,  or  from  which  he  would  never 
recover. 

After  three  days  the  old  gentleman  c(>ftld  bear  the  suspense  no 
longer.  He  rang  the  front  door  bell  of  Harry's  house,  and  was  shown 
into  the  presence  of  the  little  boy's  father  ^d  mother.  He  was  sud- 
denly covered  with  confusion.  >• 

"It's  the  little  child/'  he  stammered^>-«ffthe  child  with  the  pale 
face." 

"Do  you  know  our  son?"  Harry's  father  asked,  surprised. 

Then  the  old  gentleman  told  them  how  every  morning  he  looked 
up  at  the  little  smiling  face. 

Harry's  mother  turned  sharply  away ;  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes. 

When  the  old  gentleman  rose  to  go  he  pressed  her  hand. 

"God  bless  your  child'."  he  said,  "and  may  He  spare  him  to  us." 

That  evening  the  postman  not  only  knocked  but  rang,  and  then 
waited  till  the  maid  came. 

"It's  the  wee  chap,"  he  said.     "What's  up  with  him?" 

That  evening  he  forgot  to  whistle  on  his  rounds  and  when  he  got 
home  his  wife  scolded  him  for  being  so  dull. 

Next  morning  a  queer  packet  containing  two  red-cheeked  apples 
was  left  at  Harry's  house — a  present  to  the  little  boy  from  the  old  apple- 
woman,  who  had  never  been  known  to  give  anything  away  for  the  last 
twenty  years. 

Two  days  later  the  great  surgeon  pronounced  Harry  out  of  danger. 
His  father  turned  to  his  wife  triumphantly. 

"Our  son  will  do  great  things  yet/'  he  said. 

But  Harry's  mother  smiled  happily. 

"Our  son  has  done  great  things  already,"  she  said. — Children's 
Missionary  Magazine. 


Books  are  yours. 

Within  whose  silent  chambers  treasure  lies 
Preserved  from  age  to  age ;  more  precious  far 
Than  that  accumulated  store  of  gold 
And  orient  gems  which,  for  a  day  of  need. 
The  sultan  hides  deep  in  ancestral  tombs. 
These  hoards  of  truth  you  can  unlock  at  will. 

— ^Wordsworth. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  561 


A  HAPPY  HALLOWEEN. 

The  boys  were  out  in  the  barn  making  Hallowe'en  Jack-o-lanterns 
— ^three  of  them,  Bob  and  Charlie  and  Max. '  The  barn  was  dim  and 
shadowy  in  the  dusk  of  the  October  evening — *'very  Hallo  we 'eny,"  as 
Max  said.  It  made  one  feel  delightfully  creepy  and  scared  and  shivery 
to  hear  Bossy's  '*Moo-oo-oo,"  and  to  see  the  grinning  faces  of  the 
lanterns  and  to  watch  the  shining  yellow  eyes  of  the  big  black  cat  gleam 
out  of  the  darkness.  But  something  was  missing  in  the  fun,  and  that 
^'something"  was  the  little  sister  Katharine  who  had  been  very  ill,  and 
who  was  not  quite  well  enough  to  go  out-of-doors.  "Boor  little  Kath- 
arine !"  said  Bob,  at  last.  Then  the  three  boys  looked  about  the  bam. 
It  was  just  the  place  for  a  Hallowe'en  frolic,  there  was  no  doubt  of 
that,  and  it  did  seem  hard  to  leave  it.  "Let's  have  Hallowe'en  indoors 
for  Katharine!"  suggested  Charlie  bravely.  "Hurrah!  Let's!"  said 
the  other  two  boys,  and  away  went  the  gleaming  lanterns  toward  the 
house.  The  pet  cat  went  scampering  after,  for  Trix  was  never  far 
away  when  there  was  fun  going  on.  And  indoors  Katharine  was  cry- 
ing in  spite  of  all  mother  could  do  because  she  was  missing  all  the  Hal- 
lowe'en fun.  But  she  didn't  miss  it,  O,  no  indeed !  Mother  no  sooner 
heard  the  boys'  voices  than  she  knew  what  had  happened.  Could  they 
bob  for  apples?  Could  they  do  this?  Could  they  do  that?  came  the 
quickt  eager  questions.  And  mother  said  "Yes"  so  recklessly  to  what 
they  asked  that  father  had  to  add  in  self-defense  that  he  "hoped"  the 
witches  would  leave  a  roof  on  the  house.  "It's  been  the  happiest  Hal- 
lowe'en we  ever  had !"  declared  the  boys  after  the  fun  was  over.  "That's 
because — "  began  mother,  but  she  did  not  finish  her  sentence.  What  do 
you  suppose  she  was  going  to  say,  anyhow? — Selected. 


DOG  AND  KITTEN. 


a  ■ 

The  servant  man  of  the  family  took  a  kitten  to  a  pond  with  the 
intention  of  drowning  it.  His  master's  dog  went  with  him,  and  when 
the  kitten  was  thrown  into  the  water  the  dog  sprang  in  and  brought 
it  to  land. 

A  second  time  the  man  threw  it  in,  and  again  the  dog  rescued 
it ;  and  when  for  the  third  time  the  servant  tried  to  drown  it,  the  dog, 
as  resolute  to  save  the  little  helpless  life  as  the  man  was  to  destroy 
it,  swam  with  it  to  the  other  side  of  the  pool,  ran  all  the  way  home, 
with  it,  and  deposited  it  before  the  kitchen  fire. 

From  that  time  the  dog  kept  constant  watch  over  the  kitten.  The 
two  were  inseparable,  even  sharing  the  same  bed. — Youth's  Com- 
panion. 


562  7//£  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 


THE  AMBITION  OF  JOHN  COLLINS. 

BY  ANNE   PORTER  JOHNSON 

Fred  Weston  was  wandering  around  through  his  father's  large 
factory,  whistling  a  gay  tune,  and  looking  very  happy  and  contented. 

Weston  &  Company  manufactured  plows  and  harrows  in  great 
quantities,  shipping  them  out  by  the  carload.  It  was  now  the  busy 
season  for  the  trade,  and  the  orders  were  coming  in  thick  and  fast  every 
mail.  The  men  were  working  night  and  day  to  keep  up  with  the 
shipping. 

Fred  stopped  and  watched  the  busy  workmen  a  moment,  when  Mr. 
Weston  came  along. 

"Who  is  that  new  boy  over  there,  father?"  he  asked,  pointing 
to  a  boy  about  his  own  age,  bending  over  his  work  on  the  other  side  of 
the  room. 

That's  John  Collins,"  replied  his  father.  "During  this  terribly 
busy  time,  we  simply  had  to  have  some  one  to  run  errands  and  do  little 
odd  jobs,  and  he  wanted  something  to  do  to  earn  a  living,  and  I  gave 
him  the  work." 

John  Collins  was  busy  sorting  over  some  broken  iron,  when  he 
heard  a  voice  at  his  elbow.     "Father  says  you're  a  new  boy  here.'* 

John  looked  up  in  surprise.    "Yes,  I've  only  been  here  a  week." 

"How   do  you  like  your  job?" 

John  smiled  grimly. 

"Don't  like  it,  do  you?"  continued  Fred. 

"Well,  there  are  other  things  I  would  like  better,"  replied  John. 

"What,  for  instance?"  Fred  quizzed. 

John  gave  his  questioner  .a  searching  look.  This  way  of  firing 
in  questions  was  a  little  confusing,  and  as  he  had  no  idea  who  the  boy 
was,  he  was  puzzled  to  understand  the  evident  interest  he  was  taking 
in  his  affairs. 

"O,  yes,"  exclaimed  Fred,  seeing  the  puzzled  look  on  John's  face. 
"I  might  say  that  I  am  Fred  Weston.  Mr.  Weston  is  my  father.  I 
have  fairly  begged  him  to  give  me  a  job  here,  but  he  says  I  must  get 
a  good  education  before  he  will  let  me  work  here.  I  don't  like  school. 
I'd  much  rather  work." 

"John  gasped.  "You  don't  like  school?"  he  managed  to  exclaim 
in  astonishment. 

"Well,  it  doesn't  make  any  difference  whether  I  like  it  or  not,  IVe 
got  to  go,  so  I'm  making  the  best  of  it  to  please  father.  But  what  is 
it  you  want  to  do?" 

"It's  such  an  impossible  thing,"  replied  John,  "that  it's  almost 
foolish  to  speak  of  it.  but — I  want  just  what  you  don't  want." 

"School  ?  Well,  now,  that's  queer !"  laughed  Fred.  "Why  don't 
you  go  to  school  then,  instead  of  working  here?" 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  563 

John  thought  this  was  such  a  silly  question  that  he  laughed  aloud, 
and  Fred  saw  his  blunder.  "I  see,"  he  said.  "It's  on  account  of 
money." 

That's  the  idea,  exactly,"  agreed  John.  "If  I  had  the  money, 
I  would  have  a  good  education,  I  can  tell  you,  and  more,  I  intend  to 
work  and  save  until  I  have  the  money." 

John's  face  shone  with  enthusiasm  and  earnestness. 

"That  sounds  fine,  but  I'm  afraid  you'll  be  a  long  time  getting 
your  education." 

"Well,  I  mean  to  do  my  best,  anyhow." 

"Can't  your   father   help  you?" 

John  looked  up  in  surprise.  "My  father  and  mother  are  both  dead, 
and  I  must  make  my  own  way,"  he  replied. 

Every  few  days  Fred  came  in  to  have  a  talk  with  "plucky  John," 
as  he  called  him,  and  between  the  two  boys,  so  differently  situated  in 
every  way,  there  sprang  up  a  warm  friendship.  As  a  result  of  his  son's 
liking  for  John,  Mr.  Weston  himself  became  interested  in  the  errand 
boy,  and  his  ambition  to  become  a  scholar.  That  sort  of  pluck  and 
grit  pleased  the  man,  and  he  watched  John  as  he  went  cheerfully  about 
his  work,  knowing  the  great  desire  always  uppermost  in  his  mind. 

Really,  John  sometimes  became  very  much  discouraged,  as  his 
wages  just  a  little  more  than  covered  his  board  and  clothes.  "At  this 
rate,"  he  said  to  himself  one  Saturday  night,  after  counting  over  his 
money,  "I'll  be  old  and  gray  before  I  have  eough  saved  for  school.  I 
must  think  of  some  way-  to  make  more  money." 

He  studied  the  matter  over  and  over,  but  found  no  solution  to  the 
problem.  On  Monday  morning  he  wept  to  work  as  usual,  but  he  was 
discouraged,  and,  try  as  he  might,  he  could  not  overcome  the  feeling 
that  he  might  as  well  give  it  up. 

At  noon  Fred  came  in,  happy  and  light  hearted  as  ever,  whistling, 
cracking  jokes,  and  laughing  with  the  men.  Seeing  John  at  work  close 
to  one  of  the  large  revolving  wheels,  he  walked  over,  and  slapped  him 
on  the  shoulder  in  his  friendly  way.  "What's  the  matter,  John  ?  You 
look  out  of  sorts.     Anything  wrong?" 

Before  John  had  time  to  reply,  Fred  had  stepped  too  close  to  the 
wheel,  and  in  an  instant  the  huge  belt  was  drawing  him  in  to  certain 
death.  Quick  as  a  flash  John  saw  the  terrible  danger  of  his  friend, 
and,  exerting  all  his  strength,  he  grabbed  Fred's  arm,  and  threw  him 
away  from  the  belt  just  in  time  to  save  his  life.  In  saving  Fred,  how- 
ever, he  himself  stumbled  and  tripped  on  the  whirling  belt.  One  of  the 
men  was  standing  near  by,  and  he  immediately  shut  off  the  powerful  cur- 
rent, and  the  wheel  was  slowing  down  when  John  fell,  or  he  would  have 
been  killed  outright.  As  it  was,  he  was  badly  bruised,  and  the  men 
hurried  him  at  once  to  the  hospital. 

Fred  hastily  explained  to  his  father  the  circumstances  of  the  ac- 
cident and  together  they  followed  the  ambulance. 


564  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

"From  what  you  say,  Fred,  John  almost  lost  his  own  life  in 
saving  yours,"  said  Mr.  Weston,  greatly  agitated. 

"Indeed  he  did,  father.  I  would  surely  have  been  killed  if  John 
had  not  jerked  me  away  the  instant  he  did,'*  Fred  replied,  his  voice 
choked  with  emotion. 

At  the  hospital,  the  surgeons  found  that  John  was  only  badly 
bruised  and  shaken  up,  and  although  it  would  be  some  time  before 
he  could  work  again,  his  injuries  were  not  serious,  and  there  was  no 
cause  for  alarm.  Mr.  Weston  and  Fred  were  allowed  to  see  him  for 
a  few  minutes,  but  the  nurse  warned  them  not  to  refer  to  the  accident, 
or  excite  him  in  any  way. 

Fred  well  understood  that  John  would  be  thinking  of  the  expense, 
besides  the  loss  of  his  wages,  and  he  managed  to  whisper  in  his  friend's 
ear,  "Don't  you  worry  about  the  money,  John.  We're  going  to  pay 
for  everything,  and  father  says  your  wages  are  to  be  paid  every  week 
just  the  same  as  if  you  were  working.  Father  says  you  are  not  to  think 
of  money  at  all." 

A  great  sigh  of  relief  broke  from  John's  lips,  for,  with  all  his 
pain,  he  really  was  worrying  about  the  money. 

Fred  and  his  father  were  daily  visitors  at  the  hospital,  bringing 
flowers  and  books  to  help  John  bear  the  long  days.  During  these 
visits  Mr.  Weston  became  better  acquainted  with  John,  the  sick  boy, 
than  he  had  ever  been  with  Tohn  the  errand  boy.  As  soon  as  he  was 
able  to  be  moved  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Weston  took  him  to  their  beautiful 
home,  and  to  John,  who  had  never  known  a  home,  it  seemed  like  a 
palace.  The  first  few  days  he  felt  awkward  and  out  of  place  in  such 
beautiful  surroundings.  He  hardly  knew  how  to  act,  and  he  was  too 
backward  to  talk  much;  but  the  kindness  which  the  whole  family 
showered  on  him  soon  made  him  feel  more  at  ease,  and  as  he  gp"adually 
becarne  stronger,  he  found  himself  dreading  the  time  when  he  would 
have  to  leave.  As  it  happened,  Fred  was  worrying  about  the  same 
thing.  He  thought  the  house  would  be  very  lonely  and  dull  without 
John. 

One  evening  Fred  and  his  father  were  alone  in  the  library.  "Fath- 
er," began  Fred,  timidly,  "you  have  a  lot  of  money,  haven't  you?" 

Mr.  Weston  laughed.  "Well,  I  think  I  have  enough  to  see  us 
through,"  he  replied. 

"And  you  have  only  one  boy,"  continued  Fred  soberly.  ' 

His  father  began  to  think  there  must  be  something  on  Fred's  mind. 
"Yes,  and  he's  a  pretty  well-behaved  boy,"  Mr.  Weston  said  playfuUy. 

Fred  ignored  the  attempt  at  raillery.  He  was  deeply  interested 
in  something  more  important.  "Well,  father,  how  much  do  you  think 
I'm — I'm  worth  to  you?" 

Mr.  Weston  put  down  his  paper  and  started  at  Fred  in  amazement 

"I  suppose,  father,  I'm  worth  a  little  something,"  he  added. 

"Why,  Fred,  your  mother  and  I  couldn't  begin  to  calculate  how 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  565 

much  you're  worth  to  us.  You  surely  know  that.  What  are  you  driving 
at,  anyway  ?    Out  with  it  Fred." 

"Well,  father,  you  know  if  John  had  not  risked  his  life,  you  and 
mother  wouldn't — " 

"Yes,  yes,"  interrupted  his  father,  shuddering  at  the  thought  of 
what  might  have  happened. 

"I  thought,  perhaps — well,  you  know,  father,  that  John  just  longs 
to  go  to  school,  and  I  couldn't  help  but  think  that,  if  I  was  worth  so 
much  to  you,  and  he  had  saved  my  life,  perhaps — you  could  fix  it  so 
that  he  could  have  what  he  wanted.  O,  father,  I  have  thought  about  it 
so  much.  It  would  be  such  a  grand  way  to  pay  John,  don't  you  think?" 
Fred  looked  anxiously  at  his  father  as  he  finished  his  little  speech.  He 
knew  he  was  asking  a  good  deal. 

Mr.  Weston  put  his  hand  on  his  son's  shoulder.  "My  dear  boy, 
your  mother  and  I  have  talked  it  over,  and  John  is  to  have  all  the  edu- 
cation he  wants,  and  more  than  that,  he  is  to  have  a  home  here  as  long 
as  he  cares  to  stay.  If  I  had  known  you  were  so  interested,  I  would 
have  told  you  before.  It  is  all  settled,  and,  if,  you  wish,  we  will  go 
and  tell  John  right  now." 

Fred  was  fairly  beside  himself  with  delight.  Together  they  told 
John  the  good  news,  and  two  boys  were  so  excited  that  night  they 
could  not  sleep.  They  talked  it  all  over  and  over  again,  until  Mr. 
Weston  came  to  their  door,  and  laughingly  reminded  them  that  it  was 
nearly  nioming. 


GOOD  INTEREST. 

"My.  son,"  said  a  banker  to  his  son,  **I  want  to  give  you  a  lesson 
in  business.  Here  is  a  half-dollar.  Now,  if  you  can  find  any  boy  whom 
you  can  trust,  who  will  take  this  money  and  pay  you  interest  for  it, 
you  may  lend  it  to  him ;  and  if  you  invest  it  wisely  I'll  increase  your 
capital."  When  night  came  the  banker  said,  "My  son,  how  did  you 
invest  your  money  to-day?"  "Well,  Father,"  replied  the  little  fellow, 
**I  saw  a  boy  on  the  street  without  any  shoes,  and  he  had  no  dinner; 
so  I  gave  him  my  fifty  cents  to  buy  something  to  eat  with."  "You'll 
never  make  a  business  man  in  the  world,"  said  the  banker;  "business 
is  business.  But  I  will  try  you  once  more.  Now,  here  is  a  dollar 
to  invest;  see  how  well  you  can  do  it."  A  loud  peal  of  laughter 
from  the  boy  followed  this  speech,  which  was  thus  explained:  "My 
Sunday  school  teacher  said  giving  to  the  poor  was  lending  to  the 
Lord ;  and  she  said  He  would  return  to  us  double ;  but  I  did  not  think 
He  would  do  it  quite  so  quick." — James  R.  White. 


mt 


THESE  two  Babies,  Tillie  ana  Dan,  wiH  worn  as  hard 
and  as  fast  as  tneg  can,  melr  Dabtets  with  swecl, 
ripe  grapM  to  fill.    Por  their  Grandma  Dear  from 
far  awav,  will  come  to  see  Itiem  at  liome  todau,  Iheg 
live  In  me  house 
on  the  hill.  They 
were  tinv  tJODles 
when    Grandma 
last  came,  and 
have  grown   till 
st\e  will   scarce 
Snow  them  the 
same,    but   she 
calls    them    her 
iweet  babies  still. 
When  we  count 
the  months,  Oct- 
ober is  ten,  the 

grapes  are  ripe  ' 

and  manv  friends  come  then,  rather  In  Heaven  ble.'^s 
IXinnle  and  Till,  and  help  them  their  basKets  to  gulcHlv 
fill. 

—L.  Lute  Grtfnt  ttitkarJi. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  I-RIEND.  567 


HOME  MADE  FLOWER  POTS. 

There  is  a  lame  boy  living  in  the  same  small  country  town  with 
me  who  is  so  badly  crippled  that  he  never  can  go  out  to  play  with 
the  other  boys. 

One  day  I  went  to  see  him  and  found  him  sitting  in  a  wheel  chair, 
looking  so  cheerful  and  pleasant  that  it  was  a  pleasure  to  see  him. 

"Joe,"  I  said,  "tell  me  how  you  amuse  yourself  all  the  time.  Don't 
you  get  tired  of  being  alone  so  much?" 

'*Oh,  not  often,"  he  said.  "You  see  I  have  lots  to  amuse  me. 
Would  you  like  to  see  some  of  the  things  I  like  best?" 

"Indeed  I  would,"  said  I ;  so  Joe  wheeled  his  chair  briskly  into  the 
next  room  and  I  followed.  There  in  a  sunny  bay  window  were  a  line 
of  the  funniest  flower  pots  I  ever  saw,  and  out  of  each  grew  a  delicate 
plant. 

"These  flower  pots,"  exclaimed  Joe,  "I  made  all  myself." 

"But  what  are  they?"  I  asked  wonderingly.  Joe  chuckled. 

"Nothing  but  raw  sweet  and  white  potatoes,"  he  exclaimed.  "Of 
course  I  was  anxious  to  have  plants,  but  they  are  pretty  expensive 
to  buy  when  a  fellow  only  gets  ten  cents  a  week,  so  I  thought  and 
thought,  and  finally  this  idea  came.  I  begged  six  potatoes  from  cook, 
three  sweets  and  three  whites.  I  cut  them  in  half,  lengthwise,  and 
scooped  out  nearly  all  the  in  sides  and  filled  *em  with  water.  Then 
mother  bought  me  10  cents  worth  of  canary  seed  and  I  dropped  a 
few  in  each  potato.  Just  see  how  beautifully  they  have  grown!  Of 
course  I  have  to  be  on  the  lookout  to  see  that  the  water  is  fresh  all 
the  time,  but  that's  all  the  trouble  they  give  me.  Now  look  here.  See 
I  have  some  swinging  baskets,  too,"  and  Joe  pointed  with  pride  to- 
ward the  ceiling. 

Sure  enough,  just  as  he  said,  there  were  the  swinging  baskets. 
These  were  made  of  carrots,  their  tops  cut  off  and  as  Joe  said,  "their 
insides  scooped  out,"  filled  with  water  and  seed  planted  in  them  just 
like  the  potatoes.  Then  he  had  bored  two  little  holes  in  the  carrots, 
one  on  each  side,  about  half  an  inch  from  the  top,  and  tied  a  string 
through  each  hole,  long  enough  so  that  the  carrots  could  be  tied  to 
the  curtain  of  the  window  and  yet  swing  freely  in  the  air. 

"I  think  riike  my  plants  best  of  all,"  said  Joe,  "but  I  have  lots 
of  other  things,  too.  If  you  come  over  some  other  afternoon  I'll  show 
you  some  more." 

"Indeed  I  will"  I  promised,  as  we  said  good-bye  at  the  door. 
And  as  I  walked  down  the  street  I  could  not  help  thinking  that  if 
poor  little  crippled  Joe  took  so  much  pleasure  from  his  home  made 
flower  pots,  maybe  some  of  you  sturdy,  healthy  little  people  might 
pass  away  a  rainy  afternoon  by  trying  to  make  some  for  yourself. 
— Washington  Star. 


JUST  FOR  FUN. 


PROPER  TEMPERATURE. 

A  story  is  told  of  a  Boston  lawyer  whose 
quick  wit  never  deserted  him,  either  in  the 
coiirt-rooin  or  elsewhere. 

One  day  a  client  entered  his  office,  and 
throwing-  back  his  coat,  said,  irritably; 

"Why,  your  office,  sir,  is  as  hot  as  an 
oven !" 

"Why  shouldn't  it  be?"  was  the  cairn  re- 
sponse.    "It's  here  that  I  make  my  bread." 

A  small  pupil,  on  being  asked  to  use  the 
word  "budget"  in  a  sentence,  gave  the  follow- 
ing: 

"The  rock  was  so  big  that  you  couldn't 
budge   it." — Little   Chronicle. 

The  children  in  a  Boston  kindergarten 
were  given  paper  and  pencils,  and  were  told 
to  draw  whatever  they  chose.  A  four-year-old  colored  girl  announced 
that  she  would  draw  a  picture  of  George  Washington.  When  it  was 
finished,  she  brought  it  to  her  teacher  and  said:  "I  don't  think  it 
looks  very  much  like  George  Washington,     Let's  call  it  a  cat!"-Sel. 

"Now,  here,  don't  you  go  and  git  sorry  fer  yerself  I  There's  always 
lots  of  other  folks  you  can  be  sorry  fer  'stid  of  yerself."— Mrs.  Wiggs 
of  the  Cabbage  Patch. 

Smiling  girls  and  rosy  boys 
Come  and  buy  my  little  toys, 
Monkeys  made  of  gingerbread, 
And  sugar  horses  painted  red. 

— From  Mother  Goose. 

A  bright  little  girl  came  into  a  store  and  asked  the  price  of  collars. 
"Two  for  a  quarter,"  said  the  clerk. 
"How  much  would  one  cost?" 
"Thirteen  cents." 
She  thought  for  a  while,  and  said: 

"Then  it  would  make  the  other  twelve  cents.  So  I  guess  III  take 
that."— Little  Chronicle. 


OFFICERS^  DEPARTMENT 

00 


POEM  FOR  OCTOBER. 

AMOS  R.  WELLS. 

Take  a  little  dash  of  water  cold 

And  a  little  leaven  of  prayer, 
And  a  little  bit  of  morning  gold, 

Dissolved  in  the  morning  air. 

Add  to  your  meal  some  merriment 

And  a  thought  for  kith  and  kin. 
And  then  as  your  prime  ingredient 

A  plenty  of  work  throw  in. 

And  spice  it  all  with  the  essence  of  love 

And  a  little  wiflF  of  play. 
Let  a  wise  old  book  and  a  glance  above 

Complete  the  well-made  day. 

STAKE  SECRETARIES. 

The  Stake  Secretary  should  consult  with  the  President  often,  and 
receive  instruction.  She  should  attend  all  stake  meetings  or  see  that 
her  assistant  is  notified  to  act  in  her  place.  Minutes  are  usually  read 
at  the  session  following  that  at  which  they  are  taken.  Where  a  long 
interval  elapses  between  meetings,  the  minutes  may  be  read  at  the  close 
of  the  session,  so  that  all  important  business  may  be  approved  before  it 
is  forgotten.  This  method  will  also  insure  them  against  lo.ss,  making  it 
possible  to  have  them  recorded  without  delay. 

In  taking  minutes,  record  only  the  essential  points  discussed,  and 
the  final  action  in  all  questions  debated.  If  a  very  important  matter 
comes  up  for  consideration  and  is  not  finally  disposed  of,  it  may  be 
recorded  as  unfinished  business,  and  brought  up  as  such  at  the  next 
meeting. 

All  minutes  should  be  promptly  recorded,  leaving  a  margin  on  the 
left  side  of  the  page  for  the  headini^s  of  all  important  rulings.  This 
method  will  save  much  time  in  looking  over  the  records  for  informa- 
tion. The  place  of  meeting — town,  building,  or  both — should  be  writ- 
ten on  the  right  side  of  each  set  of  minutes,  as  is  usual  in  beginning 
a  letter.  All  records  are  the  property  of  the  Association,  and  should 
be  carefully  preserved  in  a  fire-proof  vault  wherever  possible.  They 
should  be  delivered  promptly  by  the  retiring  secretary  to  her  successor, 
or  to  the  Stake  clerk.  Minute  books  are  often  lost  because  this  rule  is 
not  followed,  and  the  records  are  mislaid  in  the  homes  of  these  officers. 


570  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

It  is  the  duty  of  the  Stake  Secretary  to  see  that  all  stake  and  local 
reports  are  accurately  compiled  and  promptly  forwarded,  and  to  render 
assistance  to  local  officers  when  required.  In  case  of  the  resignation  of 
a  stake  president,  the  secretary  should  notify  the  presiding  priesthood 
and  General  Board  at  once,  and  also  report  to  the  latter  the  reorganiza- 
tion, when  effected.  Stake  aids,  in  their  visits  to  local  associations,  may 
be  called  upon  to  assist  the  secretary  in  securing  prompt  reports. 

Local  Secretaries. — The  above  instructions  may  be  followed  by 
ward  secretaries,  with  but  few  exceptions.  Much  depends  upon  the 
accuracy  and  promptness  of  local  secretaries,  to  insure'  the  successful 
conduct  of  the  Primary  work  in  a  stake,  and  the  stake  secretary  is 
helped  or  hindered  in  the  performance  of  her  duties,  just  in  proportion 
to  the  trustworthiness  or  its  absence,  in  the  ward  secretary.  As  the 
position  is  one  of  considerable  responsibility,  care  should  be  taken  to 
place  therein  only  those  of  sufficiently  mature  years  to  enable  them  to 
sense  the  importance  of  the  calling. 

Reports  should  be  made  out  on  the  first  meeting  day  in  each  month, 
and  mailed  to  the  stake  secretary.  To  avoid  errors  and  delay,  it  will 
be  necessary  for  the  president,  treasurer  and  librarian  to  assist  the 
secretary. 

Enrollment. — New  rolls  should  be  made  out  each  year  for  the  first 
meeting  in  January,  carrying  over  all  names  entitled  to  membership 
through  regularity  of  attendance,  and  eliminating  the  names  of  those 
wljo  have  absented  themselves  without  sufficient  excuse  three-fourths 
of  the  time  of  their  enrolhnent.  These  names,  however,  are  retained 
on  the  Record  Book.  A  class  teacher  should  not  be  permitted  to  enroll 
the  names  of  children  seeking  membership  in  the  association  until  she 
has  conferred  with  the  president,  who  will  use  such  means  as  lies  within 
her  power  to  determine  a  child's  sincerity  in  the  matter  of  attendance 
at  meetings. 

Record  Books. — A  record  should  be  kept  of  all  children  of  Primar)- 
age  in  the  ward ;  also,  the  number  of  visits  made  to  each  child,  with 
the  name  of  the  Primary  officer  or  member  performing  this  dut>'. 
Reports  should  be  made  to  the  President  each  week,  and  reasons  for 
the  non-membership  and  non-attendance  of  children  recorded.  While 
we  welcome  all  those  not  of  our  faith  who  seek  membership  in  our  asso- 
ciations, our  record  work  concerns  only  those  belonging  to  the  Church 
of  Jesus  Christ  of  Latter-day  Saints.  The  names  of  non-Mormon 
children  are  not  entered  in  the  Record  Books,  but  are  placed  on  the 
rolls  upon  application. 

The  Hospital  Fund. — It  is  the  aim  of  the  Primary  Association  to 
make  the  Hospital  Fund  a  perpetual  one,  and  a  labor  of  love ;  not  a  tax. 
It  has  been  instituted  for  the  purpose  of  assisting  unfortunate  children 
unable  in  the  time  of  need  to  secure  competent  medical  attention.  All 
donations  to  this  fund  should  be  recorded  as  such  on  the  monthly  reports 
and  may  be  sent  to  the  Stake  Secretary  at  any  time.  The  only  prelim- 
inary steps  necessary  to  the  admission  of  a  child  seeking  aid  in  the 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  571 

Primary  Ward  of  the  Latter-day  Saints  Hospital  at  Salt  Lake  City, 
are  a  recommend  from  the  Bishop  of  the  Ward  in  which  the  child  re- 
sides, and  a  telegram  or  other  communication  to  the  General  Presi- 
dent of  the  Primary  Association  at  Salt  Lake  City. 

Nickel  Fund. — The  last  meeting  day  in  September  is  Nickel  Day. 
The  Nickel  Fund,  which  has  been  instituted  under  advice  from  the 
presiding  authorities  of  the  Church  for  the  purpose  of  sending  mis- 
sionaries in  the  Primary  cause  throughout  the  various  stakes  of  Zion, 
should  be  sent  to  the  Stake  Secretary  as  soon  as  collected.  One  hun- 
dred per  cent  on  a  report  is  an  indication  of  enthusiastic,  conscientious 
endeavor;  ninety  per  cent  signifies  failure,  and  a  lack  of  that  desire 
which  aims  for  universal  good.  If  it  is  difficult  to  collect  the  full 
amount  from  the  children  through  forgetfulness  and  other  causes,  let 
them  assist  in  arranging  an  entertainment  of  some  kind  where  all  may 
share  in  the  pleasure  and  at  the  same  time  help  to  shoulder  the  respon- 
sibility placed  upon  the  local  officers. 

Treasurers. — ^Treasurers,  stake  and  local,  should  receipt  for  all 
money  paid  into  the  treasury,  and  disburse  no  funds  except  on  the  order 
of  the  President.  They  should  collect  the  nickel  fund  and  see  that  it  is 
promptly  forwarded.  Only  the  simplest  form  of  book-keeping  need  be 
employed,  taking  care  that  the  total  of  cash  received  equals  the  total 
amount  of  disbursements,  plus  the  balance  on  hand.  On  monthly  re- 
ports, ''Balance  from  last  month"  should  equal  "Cash  on  hand"  recorded 
on  the  previous  report. 


Supply  your  family  with  good,  useful  books.  Do  not  expect  them 
to  read  masses  of  ancient  stupidity;  and  do  not  allow  them  to  read 
sensational  and  ungodly  trash.  Have  your  eyes  open;  and  if  you 
do  not  yourself  understand  the  matter,  ask  counsel  of  the  wisest  and 
most  intelligent  people  that  you  know ;  then  make  up  your  mind,  and 
let  your  expenditure  for  wholesome  reading  matter  be  as  legitimate 
and  as  regular  as  any  other  expense  you  may  incur. — Exchange. 

"Read  all  other  books — philosophy,  poetry,  history,  fiction;  but  if 
you  would  refine  the  judgment,  realize  the  reason,  wing  the  imagina- 
tion, attain  unto  the  finest  womanhood  or  the  sturdiest  manhood,  read 
the  Bible,  reverently  and  prayerfully,  until  its  truths  have  dissolved  like 
iron  into  the  blood." 

To  di\ert  2^t  any  time  a  troublesome  fancy,  run  to  thy  books ;  they 
presently  fix  thee  to  them,  and  drive  the  other  out  of  thy  thoughts. 
They  always  receive  thee  with  the  same  kindness.  Fuller. 

The  study  of  literature  nourishes  youth,  entertains  old  age,  adorns 
prosperity,  solaces  adversity,  is  delightful  at  home,  and  unobtrusive 
5»))road.— -Cicero. 


LESSON  DEPARTMENT 


Subject  for  tbe  /Dontb:    Gompantonsbtp  of  £colt0. 

The  Lesson  Hour. 

LESSON  FORTY-ONE. 

SUGGESTIONS  FOR  ALL  THE  TEACHERS 

The  subject  of  companions  is  a  very  important  one  at  any  period 
in  human  life,  but  of  the  greatest  importance  during  child-life.  Hered- 
ity has  its  place  in  the  fhaking  of  character;  environment  too,  has 
great  influence  in  the  modification  of  inherited  tendencies.  The  home, 
the  family,  friends,  work,  and  play  all  contributing  their  share  towards 
the  making  of  the  individual.  It  is  not  possible  to  regulate  all  the  in- 
fluences of  environment  but  as  early  as  possible  each  child  should  be 
helped  to  realize  the  importance  of  choosing  the  right  kind  of  com- 
panions and,  perhaps,  there  is  greater  opportunity  for  selection  in  the 
friends  made  in  books  than  elsewhere;  one  does  not  need  to  consider 
any  thing  but  the  fitness  of  book  friends ;  if  they  do  not  suit  we  are 
at  perfect  liberty  to  reject  them.  But,  the  important  thing  is  to  know 
how  to  choose,  children  cannot  do  this  for  themselves  and  should 
have  asistance.  The  Primary  can  give  some  of  this  assistance,  and 
the  teachers  are  urged  to  study  as  much  as  possible  to  know  how  to 
direct  the  children  towards  the  habit  of  choosing  right  companions, 
especially  in  books  to  choose  those  which  make  us  do  better  and  that 
help  us  to  be  our  best  selves. 

The  teachers  should  adapt  to  the  use  of  the  children  as  much 
as  possible  of  what  Smiles  says  about  books  in  chapter  ten,  from  page 
268  to  281  and  what  is  said  about  books  as  companions  on  page  298.  As 
these  lessons  are  given  during  the  month  of  November  a  good  point  in 
the  development  of  all  the  lessons  will  be  found  by  using  story  of  first 
Thanksgiving  Day  and  explaining  how  we  know  about  it  through 
the  records  of  history  preserved  for  us  in  books. 

FIRST  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text :     Character  by  Smiles,  chapter  10. 
Bible :     Moses  in  the  palace. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  573 

Other  Materials. 

Memory  Gem. 

Games. 

Songs. 

Pictures. 

Rest  Exercises. 

Aim. 

Good  books,  properly  studied,  give  inspiration,  courage  and  ability 
to  promote  character. 

Illustration. 

"Being  Kind"  The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  10,  page  257. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher:  Have  a  number  of  books  to  use  for 
this  lesson,  some  with  pictures;  some  without;  song  books;  and  other 
varieties,  among  them  a  Bible  and  Book  of  Mormon.  Show  them  to  the 
children,  explaining  the  particular  value  of  each  and  how  dependent 
we  are  upon  them  for  knowledge.  Put  special  stress  upon  the  Bible 
and  Book  of  Mormon  and  the  beautiful  things  they  contain.  Tell 
briefly  the  story  of  Moses,  using  the  point  that  the  Lord  needed  some- 
one who  would  understand  many  things  and  so  arranged  that  Moses 
should  be  taken  into  the  palace  where  he  would  find  teachers  and 
books  to  make  him  ready  to  be  a  great  man.  Help  the  children  to 
understand  how  to  use  and  take  care  of  books. 

The  last  lesson  on  manners  may  be  used  to  emphasize  the  courtesy 
with  which  books,  which  are  our  friends,  should  be  used.  The  sup- 
plementary story  will  help  in  this  direction.  Use  pictures  of  Moses. 

Memorv  Gent: 

Books  are  my  friends ;  I  will  try  to  be  careful  of  them. 


Poem  ARE  YOU  A  GOOP? 

The  Goops  they  wet  their  fingers 

To  turn  the  leaves  of  books. 
And  then  they  turn  the  corners  down 

And  think  that  no  one  looks. 

They  leave  the  marks  of  dirty  hands, 

Of  lollipops  and  gum, 
On  borrowed  book  and  libr'y  book. 

As  often  as  they  come. 

— Selected. 


574  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

SECOND  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text:    Character  by  Smiles,  chapter  10. 
Bible:    David. 

Other  Materials: 
Memory  Gem, 
Games. 
Songs. 
Pictures. 
Rest  Exercises. 

Aim. 

Good  books,  properly  studied,  give  inspiration,  courage  and  abili- 
ty to  promote  character. 

Illustration. 

"The  Knights  and  The  Prisoners,  The  Children's  Friend, 
vol,  10,  page  203. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher:  Use  suggestions  given  for  the 
First  Grade  adding  some  books  used  in  the  beginners  g^de  in  public 
school.  Use  the  memory  gem  to  give  the  children  some  idea  of  how 
knowledge  is  acquired,  a  little  at  a  time ;  Encourage  them  to  tell  of 
some  good  things  which  they  may  have  learned  from  books.  Relate 
briefly  story  of  David  who  from  taking  care  of  sheep  came  to  be 
a  great  king,  who  not  only  had  knowledge  of  books  but  wrote  some 
for  us.  Show  Psalms  in  Bible  and  read  one  that  you  think  they  can 
understand.  Before  giving  story  for  illustration  talk  a  little  about 
"Knights,"  their  chivalry  and  courtesy,  this  will  g^ve  opportunity  to 
review  last  lesson.     Use  pictures  of  David. 

Memory  Gem:       Only  a  drop  in  the  bucket. 

But  every  drop  will  tell; 
The  bucket  soon  would  be  empty 
Without  the  drops  in  the  well.     — Selected. 

Poem,  HOW  DOTH  THE  LITTLE  BUSY  BEE. 

How  doth  the  little  busy  bee 

Improve  each  shining  hour, 
And  gather  honey  all  the  day 

From  every  opening  flower! 

How  skillfully  she  builds  her  cell ! 

How  neat  she  spreads  her  wax ! 
And  labors  hard  to  store  it  well 

With  the  sweet  food  she  makes. 

In  works  of  labor  or  of  skill 
I  would  be  busy  too. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND-  575 

For  Satan  finds  some  mischief  still 
Fpr  idle  hands  to  do. 

In  books  or  work,  or  healthful  play 

Let  my  first  years  be  past, 
That  I  may  give  for  every  day 

Some  good  account  at  last. 

—Watts. 

THIRD  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text :     Character  by  Smiles,  chapter  10. 
Bible:     Jesus  as  a -student. 

Other  Materials. 

Memory  Gem. 
Poem. 
Songs. 
Pictures. 

Aim. 

Good  books,  properly  studied,  give  inspiration,  courage  and  ability 
to  promote  character. 

Illustration. 

"Mabel's  Museum."    The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  9,  page  485. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher:  Read  carefully  what  Dr.  Smiles  has 
to  say  about  the  value  of  books  as  companions  and  adapt  some  of 
it  to  the  class.  By  questions  let  the  children  tell  how  they  obtain 
knowledge  from  books.  Discuss  the  best  way  to  use  such  knowledge, 
help  them  to  understand  the  value  of  doing  whatever  needs  to  be  done 
in  the  very  best  way.  Also  encourage  the  thought  of  treating  books 
with  respect,  this  will  give  opportunity  for  the  review  on  maimers. 
Use  pictures  of  Jesus  in  the  Temple  with  the  doctors  and  in  the 
synagogue  where  He  is  reading  from  the  scriptures.  By  use  of  these 
pictures  let  the  children  explain  that  Jesus  was  a  student.  Have 
a  Bible  to  show  to  the  children,  explain  a  little  about  the  immense 
amount  of  labor  required  in  its  production.  Speak  of  the  wonderful 
influence  its  words  have  upon  all.  Read  something,  anything  you  par- 
ticularly admire,  and  tell  of  its  influence  upon  your  own  life,  bear 
your  testimony  to  the  children  of  ypur  knowledge  of  God's  1.  ve  which 
speaks  from  His  Book.  If  you  cannot  make  a  choice,  read  the  beati- 
tudes, Matt.  5. 

The  story  given  for  the  illustration  will  do  to  show  how  one  little 
girl  used  her  knowledge  to  help  in  her  daily  tasks.     The  poem  il- 


576  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

lustrates  the  value  which  good  books  have  in  filling  the  house  of  the 
mind  with  the  right  materials. 
Memory  Gem: 

We  should  make  the  same  use  of  books  that  the  bee  does  of  a 
flower;  he  gathers  sweets  from  it,  but  does  not  injure  it. — SelecteA 

Poem  THE  DOOR  OF  THE  HOUSE. 

There  were  idle  thoughts  came  in  the  door, 

And  warmed  their  little  toes, 
And  did  more  michief  about  the  house 

Than  any  one  living  knows. 

They  scratched  the  tables  and  broke  the  chairs, 

And  soiled  the  floor  and  wall- 
For  a  motto  was  written  above  the  door, 

"There's  welcome  here  for  all." 

When  the  master  saw  the  mischief  done 

He  closed  it  with  hope  and  fear, 
And  he  wrote  above  instead,  "Let  none 

Save  good  thoughts  enter  here." 

And  the  good  little  thoughts  came  trooping  in,  * 

When  he  drove  the  others  out : 
They  cleaned  the  walls  and  they  swept  the  floor, 

Ajid  sang  as  they  moved  about. 

And  last  of  all  an  angel  came. 

With  wings  and  a  shining  face, 
And  above  the  door  he  wrote :     "Here 

Love  has  found  a  dwelling-place." 

— Selected. 

FOURTH  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text:     Character  by  Smiles,  chapter  10. 
Church  History :     President  Joseph  F.  Smith. 

Other  Materials: 

Questions. 

Memory  Gem. 

Poem. 

Reading. 

Recitation. 

Quotations. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  577 

Aim. 

Good  books,  properly  studied,  g^ve  inspiration,  courage  and  ability 
to  promote  character. 

Illustration. 

"Joe's  Churning."     The  Children's  Friend^  vol.  9,  page  234. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher:  Review  the  lesson  on  manners, 
speaking  about  the  courtesy  which  should  be  shown  to  friends.  Explain 
how  books  are  friends  and  how  they,  too,  should  be  well  treated. 
Let  the  children  help  you  to  make  plain  that  very  much  good  comes  to 
us  because  we  have  books.  From  what  you  have  studied  in  character 
by  Smiles  help  the  children  to  understand  the  value  of  biography. 
Review  the  correspondence  between  President  Joseph  F.  Smith  and 
his  daughter  Donnette,  (Mrs.  Kesler.)  The  Children's  Friend,  vol. 
9,  page  282.  When  the  poem  is  recited  use  it  to  illustrate  the  im- 
mortality of  thought  expressed  in  beauty  of  song,  poem  or  story. 

Question, ' 

What  is  a  book? 

What  materials  go  into  the  making  of  a  book? 

If  a  book  were  loaned  to  you  and  it  was  destroyed,  how  could 
you  replace  it,  if  you  had  to  supply  all  of  its  parts?  (From  this  ques- 
tion discuss  the  author,  the  printer,  the  binder,  the  paper  and  the  ink.) 

What  was  the  incident  about  Abraham  Lincoln  and  the  borrowed 
book?    With  how  many  good  books  are  you  acquainted? 

Who  is  your  favorite  author? 

(Discuss  as  many  as  possible,  to  find  out  why  certain  writers 
are  admired.) 

Memory  Gem: 

"Associate  with  the  noblest  people  you  can  find;  read  the  best 
books ;  live  with  the  mighty.    Learn  to  be  happy  alone." 


Poem  THE  ARROW  AND  THE  SONG. 

I  shot  an  arrow  into  the  air, 
It  fell  to  earth,  I  knew  not  where; 
For,  so  swiftly  it  flew,  the  sight 
Could  not  follow  it  in  its  flight. 

I  breathed  a  song  into  the  air, 
It  fell  to  earth,  I  knew  not  where; 
For  who  has  sight  so  keen  and  strong 
That  it  can  follow  the  flight  of  song? 

Long,  long  afterward,  in  an  oak 
I  found  the  arrow,  still  unbroke; 
And  the  song,  from  beginning  to  end, 
I  found  again  in  the  heart  of  a  friend. 

— Henry   W.   Longfellow. 


578  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

To  be  memorized  and  recited. 

All  that  mankind  has  done,  thought  or  been  is  l)dng  as  in  magic 
preservation  in  the  pages  of  books. — Carlyle. 

Reading. 

All  that  a  school  or  university  or  final  highest  school  can  do  for  us 
is  still  but  what  the  first  school  began  doing — ^teach  us  to  read.  Wc 
learn  to  read  in  various  languages,  in  various  sciences;  we  learn 
the  alphabet  and  letters  of  all  manner  of  books.  But  the  place  where 
we  are  to  get  knowledge,  even  theoretic  knowledge,  is  the  books 
themselves.  It  depends  on  what  we  read,  after  all  manner  of  professors 
have  done  their  best  for  us.  The  true  university  of  these  days  is  a 
collection  of  books. — Carlyle. 

Quotations. 

Psalms  32:8;  Proverbs  13:20;  II  Timothy  3:14-17. 

FIFTH  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text:     Character  by  Smiles,  chapter  10. 

Book  of  Mormon:     Finding  of  the  Book  of  Mormon. 

Other  Materials. 

Questions. 

Memory  Gem. 

Poem. 

Reading. 

Recitation. 

Quotations. 

Aim. 

Good  books,  properly  studied,  give  inspiration,  courage  and  ability 
to  promote  character. 

Illustration. 

"Prepared  for  Possibilities."  The  Children's  Friend,  vol,  9, 
page  52. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher:  Choose  from  suggestions  given  for 
other  grades  anything  which  you  care  to  use.  The  review  for  this 
lesson  may  easily  present  some  of  the  ideas  given  on  manners  and  in- 
troduce the  children  to  the  thought  of  books  as  friends  who  should 
be  chosen  with  care  and  treated  with  respect.  A  careful  reading 
of  chapter  ten  in  Character  will  give  many  good  suggestions  about  the 
choice  of  books.  If  possible  have  a  brief  history  of  how  books  came 
to  be.  Discuss  a  little  about  the  first  books,  particularly  the  Bible, 
and  how  and  why  so  much  of  the  literature  of  to-day  is  an  out  growth 
of  the  books  prepared  for  us  so  many  hundreds  of  years  ago.    Review 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  579 

briefly  the  story  of  the  Book  of  Mormon.  How  and  .why  and  by  whom 
it  was  written ;  the  finding  of  it  by  the  Prophet  Joseph  Smith  and  how 
it  bears  testimony  to  the  truth  of  the  Gospel.  For  information  about 
the  Book  of  Mormon,  see  The  Articles  of  Faith  by  Apostle  James  E. 
Talmage.    Relate  all  materials  given  to  the  tliought  in  the  memory  gem. 

Questions. 

What  is  your  opinion  of  a  person  in  whose  company  you  are 
tempted  to  do  wrong? 

What  ought  you  to  do  under  such  circumstances? 

Why  is  a  book  very  much  like  a  person  in  having  influence  over 
actions?  Why  would  it  be  a  good  plan  in  choosing  books  to  read,  to 
ask  advice  from  some  person  who  has  read  a  great  many  books  ? 

What  kind  of  books  do  you  read  in  school?    At  home? 

Why  is  it  a  good  plan  to  read  a  worthy  book  a  number  of 
times? 

What  is  considered  to  be  the  greatest  book? 

In  our  Church  which  book  has  the  same  greatness?  Why  should 
every  Latter-day  Saint  be  very  well  acquainted  with  the  Bible  and  the 
Book  of  Mormon? 

How  may  this  acquaintance  be  cultivated? 
Memory  Gem. 

Books,  schools  and  education  are  the  scaflFolding  by  means  of  which 
God  builds  up  the  human  soul. — Humboldt. 

Poem  MY  OLD  BIBLE. 

Though  the  cover  is  worn, 

And  the  pages  are  torn, 

And  though  places  bear  traces  of  tears; 

Yet  more  precious  than  gold 

Is  the  Book,  worn  and  old, 

That  can  shatter  and  scatter  my  fears. 

This  old  Book  is  my  guide, 

'Tis  a  friend  by  my  side, 
It  will  lighten  and  brighten  my  way ; 

And  each  promise  I  find 

Soothes  and  gladdens  my  mind 
As  I  read  it  and  heed  it  to-day. 

To  this  Book  I  will  cling. 
Of  its  worth  I  will  sing. 
Though  great  losses  and  crosses  be  mine : 
For  I  cannot  despair, 
Though  surrounded  by  care. 
While  possessing  this  blessing  Divine. 

— ^Edmund  Pillifant,  in  C.  and  M.  Alliance. 


580  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Reading  MIND,  THE   POWER  OF  MAN. 

The  mind  is  the  power  of  man.  No  possession  is  so  productive 
of  real  influence  as  a  highly  cultivated  intellect.  Wealth,  birth  and 
official  station  may  and  do-  secure  to  the  possessors  an  external,  super- 
fical  courtesy ;  but  they  never  did,  and  they  never  can,  command  the 
reverence  of  the  heart. 

It  is  only  to  the  man  of  large  and  noble  soul,  to  him  who  blends 
a  cultivated  mind  with  an  upright  heart,  that  men  yield  the  tribute 
of  deep  and  genuine  respect.  But  why  do  so  few  young  men 
of  early  promise,  whose  hopes,  purposes,  and  resolves  are  as  radiant 
as  the  colors  of  the  rainbow,  fail  to  distinguish  themselves?  The 
answer  is  obvious.  They  are  not  willing  to  devote  themselves  to  that 
toilsome  culture  which  is  the  price  of  great  success. 

Whatever  aptitude  for  particular  pursuits  nature  may  give  to 
her  favorite  children,  she  conducts  none  but  the  laborious  and  the 
studious  to  distinction.  Great  men  have  ever  been  men  of  thought  as 
well  as  men  of  action.  As  the  magnificent  river,  rolling  in  the  pride 
of  its  mighty  waters,  owes  its  greatness  to  the  hidden  springs  of  the 
mountain  nook,  so  does  the  wide-sweeping  influence  of  a  distinguished 
man  date  its  origin  from  hours  of  privacy,  resolutely  employed  in 
efforts  after  self -development.  The  invisible  spring  of  self-culture  is 
the  source  of  every  great  achievement.  Away,  then,  young  mani  with 
all  dreams  of  superiority,  unless  you  are  determined  to  dig  after  knowl- 
edge as  men  search  for  concealed  gold.  Remember,  that  every  man  has 
in  himself  the  germinal  principle  of  great  excellence,  and  he  may  de- 
velop it  by  cultivation  if  he  will  try. 

Perhaps  you  are  what  the  world  calls  poor.  What  of  that?  Most 
of  the  men  whose  names  are  as  household  words  were  also  the  chil- 
dren of  poverty.  Captain  Cook,  the  circumnavigator  of  the  globe,  was 
bom  in  a  mud-hut,  and  started  in  life  as  a  cabin  boy.  Lord  Elton,  who 
sat  upon  the  woolsack  in  the  British  Parliament  for  nearly  half  a 
century,  was  the  son  of  a  coal  merchant.  Franklin,  the  philosopher, 
diplomatist,  and  statesman,  was  but  a  soap-maker's  boy,  whose  highest 
luxury,  at  one  time,  was  only  a  penny  roll  eaten  in  the  streets  of  Phil- 
adelphia. Ferguson,  the  profound  philosopher,  was  the  son  of  a  half- 
starved  weaver.  Johnson,  Goldsmith,  Coleridge,  and  multitudes  of 
others  of  high  distinction,  knew  the  pressure  of  limited  circumstances, 
and  have  demonstrated  that  poverty  even  is  no  insuperable  obstacle  to 
success. 

Up,  then,  young  man,  and  gird  yourself  for  the  work  of  self-culti- 
vation! Set  a  high  price  on  your  leisure  moments:  they  are  sands 
of  precious  gold.  Properly  expended,  they  will  produce  for  you  a 
stock  of  great  thoughts,  thoughts  that  will  fill,  stir,  and  investigate 
and  expand  the  soul. 

Seize,  also,  on  the  unparalleled  aids  furnished  by  steam  and  type 
in  this  unequaled  age,  the  great  thoughts  of  great  men  can  now  be 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


581 


procured  at  prices  almost  nominal.  You  can,  therefore,  easily  col- 
lect a  library  of  choice  standard  works.  But,  above  all,  learn  to 
reflect  even  more  than  you  read.  Let  thought  and  reading  go  hand 
in  hand,  and  the  intellect  will  rapidly  increase  in  strength  and  gifts. 
Its  possessor  will  rise  in  character,  in  power,  and  in  positive  influ- 
ence— D.  Wise. 

Quotations. 

II  Peter  3:1  and  2  and  18;  Matthew  5:6;  Isaiah  40:8. 


The  Busy  Hour. 

LESSON  FORTY-ONE.  • 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher,  Make  special  effort  at  this  session 
to  teach  the  children  how  to  care  for  books.  In  the  Primary  Teachers' 
Class  a  very  good  pattern  was  given  for  a  cover;  if  possible  get  this 
pattern  and  have  each  child  cover  one  book. 

To  help  out  the  thought  of  good  friends,  how  to  make  and  keep 
them,  suggestions  are  given  for  the  making  of  scrap-books  and  a  book 
holder,  which,  when  completed,  will  be  found  useful  for  Christmas  gifts 
for  companions,  friends  and  dear  ones. 

The  teachers  will  have  better  results  if  each  of  the  forms  are  made 
in  the  preparation  meeting  or  at  home.  Each  grade  may  make  the 
scrap  books  and  the  fourth  and  fifth  grades  given  a  good  start  on  the 
book  rack. 

Scrap  Books.  Cut  from  a  piece  of  strong  linen,  colored  cambric 
or  remnants  of  window  blind  material,  four,  or  more,  oblongs  twenty- 
four  inches  long  by  twelve  inches  wide.  Buttonhole-stitch  the  edges 
all  around  with  some  bright-colored  worsted,  then  place  the  oblongs 
neatly  together  and  stitch  them  directly  through  the  center  with  strong 
thread  (Drawing  I).  Fold  them  over,  stitch  again,  as  in  drawing  II, 
and  the  book  is  finished  and  ready  for  the  pictures. 


r^UIIIII|IIMHIIIMlTIT^H^IIiMIMIIIIIIHUU»ri 

I 
I 

I 


n 


.^,^— ^»»  .U«J-»^J.^ 


DRAWING  I. 


DRAWING  II. 


Have  gathered  a  number  of  suitable  pictures,  cut  out  from  old 
magazines,  to  be  pasted  in  the  scrap  books.  Let  the  children  make  se- 
lections, help  them  to  make  sets,  that  is :  let  one  book  tell  about  babies, 


582 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


another  about  girls,  or  boys,  or  games,  etc.  Give  careful  directions 
about  the  pasting  and  have  that  part  of  the  work  done  at  home.  The 
work  done  on  the  scrap-books  should  be  adapted  to  the  capacities  of 
the  children  and  may  be  very  simple,  with  few  pages,  to  really  elaborate 
and  beautiful  ones. 

A  Book  Rack.  The  book-rack  here  shown  will  make  a  pretty  and 
serviceable  ornament  for  the  table.  The  framework,  shown  below,  can 
be  made  by  a  carpenter  or  older  boy,  or  by  member  of  the  class  if  handy 
with  tools.  The  space  below  the  shelf  has  a  hinged  door  to  let  down, 
or  a  drawerKran  be  fitted  to  the  space,  if  preferred.  This  space  will  be 
found  very  useful  for  keeping  paper  and  envelopes,  or  for  other  pur- 


COMPLETED  RACK. 

poses  that  will  readily  be  thought  of.  The  framework  is  neatly  covered 
with  some  pretty  cloth  that  will  harmonize  in  color  with  the  other  fur- 
nishings of  the  room.  The  edges  can  be  secured  with  large,  round- 
headed  brass  tacks,  as  shown,  this  giving  an  ornamental  effect.  The 
ends  will  be  very  pretty  if  the  silk,  or  other  material,  be  "gathered" 
irregularly  at  top  and  bottom,  finishing  at  the  top  with  a  pretty  bow 
of  ribbon  of  a  color  to  harmonize  with  the  cloth. 

In  making  the  framework  of  such  a  rack,  the  best  material  to  use 
is  pine  from  an  empty  grocery  box.  Boxes  of  any  size  can  be  secured 
at  a  grocer's  at  from  five  to  ten  cents,  the  lumber  in  which,  if  bought 
at  a  lumber  yard-,  would  cost  eight  or  ten  times  as  much.  It  is,  more- 
over, all  planed  and  ready  for  use  when  the  box  has  been  carefully  taken 
apart.  There  will  be  nails  enough,  also,  in  the  box  to  make  the  rack. 
Such  grocery  boxes  can  be  utilized  in  the  making  of  all  sorts  of  things, 
the  pine  lumber  being  very  soft  and  easy  to  work. 


FRAMEWORK. 

A  book-rack,  such  as  is  shown  in  the  cut,  is  the  most  convenient 
receptacle  for  a  few  choice  books  that  one  likes  to  have  ready  at  hand 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  583 

for  use.  They  are  held  in  such  a  position  that  the  book  desired  can 
be  instantly  reached,  while  this  form  of  book-shelf  is  very  artistic  and 
ornamental. 

LESSON  FORTY-THREE. 

The  Story  Hour. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher:  It  is  very  difficult  to  find  stories 
with  concrete  illustrations  of  how  boys  and  girls  are  influenced  by 
books.  It  is  suggested  that  the  teachers  use  stories  which  they  can 
adapt  to  help  the  children  to  see  the  value  of  making  friends  of  good 
authors.  If  the  story  chosen  teaches  a  good  lesson  let  the  children 
understand  that  they  are  receiving  pleasure  through  the  medium  of 
books.  Some  of  the  stories  recommended  tell  about  the  desire  of 
young  people  for  an  education  that  will  help  them  to  understand  the 
knowledge  to  be  gained  from  books. 

FIRST  GRADE. 

Stories.  Picture  books,  or,  Amy  Stuart,  in  Boston  Collection  of 
Kindergarten  Stories ;  or, 

The  story  of  The  First  Thanksgiving,  to  be  found  in  back  num- 
bers of  The  Children's  Friend;  or,  Frances'  Leaven,  in  this  issue  of 
The  Children's  Friend. 

SECOND  GRADE. 

Stories.  A  Thanksgiving  Story,  in  Boston  Collection  of  Kinder- 
garten Stories;  or.  The  Golden  River,  in  How  To  Tell  Stories;  or, 
Ruth's  Favorite  Recreation  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's  Friend. 

THIRD  GRADE. 

Stories.  It  Doesn't  Pay,  The  Children's  Friend,  vol,  2,  page 
363 :  or. 

Story  about  Robert  Louis  Stevenson,  (a  famous  writer,)  in  The 
Children's  Friend,  vol.  9,  page  589;  or, 

Choosing  and  Not  Ashamed,  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's 
Friend. 

FOURTH  GRADE. 

Stories.  How  to  Be  Happy,  The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  9, 
page  553 ;  or, 

"Him  Make  Somebody,"  The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  2,  page 
130 ;  or. 

The  Bible  As  Good  Reading,  by  Beveridge ;  or, 


584  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

A  Boy  That  Would  Not  Give  Up,  in. this  issue  of  The  Children's 
Friend. 

FIFTH  GRADE. 

Stories.  Invention  of  Printing,  The  Children's  Friend,  vol. 
1.  page  39;  or. 

Dewberry  Dan,  The  Children's  Friend^  vol.  10,  page  515;  or, 

Plutarch's  Lives;  or. 

Books  As  Our  Mutual  Friends,  and  Thurlow-Weed,s  Boyhood 
and  Boss  Harry  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's  Friend. 


LESSON  FORTY-FOUR. 

THE  Social  Hour. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher^  Notice  that  the  games  have  been 
chosen  to  carry  out  the  thought  of  friends  and  companions.  The 
Thanksgiving  spirit  may  also  be  influenced  for  good  in  the  materials 
given  for  this  lesson.  The  ** Indian  Dance,"  "Pop  Goes  the  Weazel," 
and  the  "Barn  Dance"  were  taught  in  the  Primary  Teachers  Class  and 
help  may  be  obtained  from  the  representative  from  your  stake  who 
attended  the  class. 

Preliminary  Music, 

Prayer, 

Singing, 

Games,  "My  Little  Friend  and  I ;"  Swedish  Singing  Games,  by 
Bolin.  "Fairies  Ball  to  the  Goblins,"  "Lame  Fox  and  Chickens."  "Do 
This,  Do  That,"  all  three  from  Games  for  the  Playground. 

Note,  "Do  This,  Do  That"  may  be  adapted  to  the  Thanksgiving 
thought  by  having  the  exercises  suitable  to  the  season,  such  as  gather- 
ing and  storing  vegetables,  fruits,  etc. ;  preparations  for  the  dinner  and 
social. 

Thanksgiving  Story,  Songs  and  Gems, 

Dances.  "Indian  Dance,"  as  taught  in  the  Primary  Teachers' 
Class. 

"Ten  Little  Indians,"  Old  and  New  Singing  Games. 

"Pop  Goes  the  Weazel,"  or  "The  Bam  Dance,"  as  taught  in  the 
Primary  Teachers*  Class. 

Singing, 

Benediction. 


MR  SAT  TIIF.  PRINCESS  WISLA. 


The  CHILDREN'S  Friend 


J 


Vol.  12.  NOVEMBER,  1913.  No.  11. 

LITTLU  PRINCFSS  WISLA. 

BY  SOPHIE  SWETT. 

Chapter  XL — ^Telegraph  Messages. 

But  it  was  not  until  Betty  and  her  aunt  had  been  for  a  good  while 
at  Bar  Harbor,  not  until  the  measles  had  loosened  its  grip  upon  Sidney 
and  Phi  and  they  had  come,  too,  that  there  was  any  sign  about  the 
Indian  camps  of  Winne-Lackee  and  little  Princess  Wisla. 

Betty  and  the  boys  went,  every  day,  to  the  Indian  camps,  and  one 
squaw  was  very  kind  and  gave  Betty  a  pretty  little  gray  seal-skin  pouch 
to  hang  at  her  belt. 

The  great  empty  camp  beside  hers  was  Winne-Lackee*s,  she  said. 
The  old  squaw  had  been  there,  early  in  the  summer,  when  her  grand- 
daughter, little  Swa)ang  Reed,  had  died.  She  had  taken  another  little 
granddaughter  to  live  with  her  now.  Her  name  was  Medwisla 
(Meadow  Lark)  and  she  was  called  Princess  Wisla. 

She  was  not  at  all  like  their  people,  the  squaw  said,  shaking  her 
he€^d  in  a  puzzled  way.  She  had  come  from  the  west,  like  Winne- 
Lackee  herself,  and  the  western  tribes  were  different.  But  Winne- 
Lackee  was  very  fond  of  her,  even  more  fond  than  she  had  ever  been 
of  little  Swaying  Reed. 

Aunt  Celia  went  and  talked  with  the  squaw,  and  after  that  she  said 
she  thought  there  was  no  reason  to  suppose  that  the  Indians  knew  any- 
thing about  little  lost  Peggy  Piper. 

And  the  "Peggy  heartache"  came  back  to  Betty. 

But,  suddenly,  the  great  Winne-Lackee  camp  was  open  and  in  the 
Bar  Harbor  streets  appeared  a  small  wheeled  chair,  pushed  by  a  tall 
Indian,  and  in  the  chair  sat  the  Princess  Wisla,  wrapped  in  a  white  silk 
blanket  embroidered  with  gold  and  with  more  beautiful  strings  of  beads 
than  ever  about  her  neck ! 

Betty  wished  to  hop  off  the  buckboard  on  which  she  was  driving 
with  her  aunt  and  press  through  the  crowd  to  speak  to  Princess  Wisla, 
just  as  she  had  done  in  the  Canadian  city,  but  Aunt  Celia  held  her  back. 

She  said  it  seemed  a  little  as  if  Winne-Lackee  had  run  away  from 
At,  with  Little  Princess  Wisla.  Let  the  boys  speak  to  her  if  they  could, 
but  she  and  Betty  would  keep  out  of  sight ! 

Betty  thought  this  was  pretty  hard  but  she  certainly  did  not  want 
Princess  Wisla  whisked  off  out  of  sight  again.  So  she  patiently  waited 
to  see  whether  Phi  and  Sidney  could  get  a  chance  to  speak  to  the  little 
Indian  princess,  and,  if  they  did,  what  she  would  say  to  them. 


588  THLl  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

"I  suppose  the  old  squaw  doesn't  want  her  to  speak  to  any  white 
children,"  said  Aunt  Celia  as  she  watched  the  boys  who  had  jumped  off 
the  buckboard  and  mingled  with  the  crowd  that  was  following  the  little 
princess  in  her  chair. 

Dr.  Sockabesin's  sign  was  now  to  be  seen  over  a  door  on  the  main 
street,  and  it  seemed  likely  that  it  was  in  order  to  attract  attention  to  the 
Itldians  that  little  Princess  Wisla  was  paraded  about  the  streets. 

Aunt  Celia  and  Betty  leaned  out  of  the  buckboard  to  see  what 
would  happen  when  Phi  and  Sidney  tried  to  speak  to  Princess  Wisla. 

Phi,  as  soon  as  he  had  a  glimpse  of  the  little  Indian  girl's  face, 
pressed  through  the  crowd  as  eagerly  as  Betty  had  done,  in  the  Ca- 
nadian city. 

And  Aunt  Celia  saw  that  his  face  had  turned  pale. 

Just  then  a  motor  car,  whose  driver  had  evidently  lost  control  of  it, 
came  dashing  into  the  crowd,  which  divided  as  if  by  magic.  Only  the 
tall  Indian  was  looking  another  way  and  the  motor  car  swerving  from 
side  to  side  would  have  crashed  upon  the  little  princess  if  Phi  had  not 
caught  the  chair  and  with  all  his  strength  sent  it  rolling  upon  the  side- 
walk out  of  harm's  wav ! 

But  Phi  lost  his  balance  in  the  effort  and  fell  so  that  one  wheel 
of  the  car  went  over  his  leg  and  he  was  carried  to  the  hospital,  a  beau- 
tiful breezy  place,  overlooking  the  sea,  and  two  or  three  doctors  were 
speedily  in  attendance  oii  him. 

"A  fellow  couldn't  let  any  girl  get  run  over,  you  know,"  he  said, 
when  the  doctors  were  for  making  a  hero  of  him,  "and  that  little  Indian 
girl  makes  me  think  somehow  of  my  sister  Peggy  who — who— is  lost" 

Aunt  Celia  quite  forgot,  now,  that  she  had  thought  it  wise  not  to  let 
Winne-Lackee  or  Dr.  Sockabesin  see  her  or  Betty.  They  got  to  the 
hospital  as  soon  as  they  could  and  were  greatly  relieved  to  hear  the 
doctors  say  that  no  bone  was  broken  and  Phi  would  be  able  to  walk- 
again  in  a  week  or  two. 

As  Aunt  Celia  and  Betty  were  going  out  of  Phi's  room  who  should 
be  coming  up  the  stairs  but  old  Winne-Lackee  and  behind  her  came  Dr. 
Sockabesin  carrying  Princess  Wisla  in  his  arms ! 

Aunt  Celia  stepped  into  a  little  ante-room  and  drew  Betty  in  after 
her.  The  portiere  was  pushed  aside  a  little  and  Aunt  Celia  and  Betty 
could  see  and  hear  what  went  on  in  Phi's  room. 

Phi  sprang  up  from  his  pillows  when  he  saw  the  little  Indian  prin- 
cess and  the  Indian  woman  enter,  although  the  doctors  had  told  him  to 
lie  perfectly  still. 

His  face  grew  very  red,  but  perhaps  it  would  have  done  that  any- 
way because  Princess  Wisla  was  thanking  him  in  pretty  English  as  she 
had  been  told  to  do  for  saving  her  life.  She  said,  too,  that  she  was  glad 
that  he  was  not  to  be  obliged  to  lie  in  bed  long.  She  had  been  obliged 
to,  and  she  knew  how  hard  it  was.  She  was  only  strong  enough  yet 
to  walk  a  very  little  ways. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  589 

"Your  eyes  look  at  me  just  like  my  sister  Peggy's!"  Phi  burst 
forth.    "And  your  voice  sounds  like  hers !" 

The  red  blood  rushed  into  the  little  princess'  dark  cheeks. 

*'Is  your  sister  Peggy  Piper,  and  does  she  live  in  Polly-whoppet?" 
she  asked,  slowly.  "I  have  been  told  about  her  and  I  think  of  her  all 
the  time !  I  seem  to  know,  somehow,  that  she  has  a  brother  Phi !  Per- 
haps the  little  girl  told  me — or  the  man  in  the  cars.  And  this  little 
Peggy  Piper  has  a  little  dog  Stumpy,  just  like  me,  too.  My  dog 
Stumpy  had  to  be  sent  back  to  the  island  because  he  behaved  so.  He 
howled  and  whined  nights.  I  am  a  little  Indian  girl,  you  know.  I  am 
a  Princess.     My  grandfather  was  a  great  chief — " 

"I  don't  see  what  makes  you  seem  so  much  like  our  Peggy!" 
blurted  out  poor  Phi,  again,  staring  at  her  with  all  his  eyes. 

"Come !  Come !  You  will  tire  the  poor  boy !"  said  Dr.  Sockabesin, 
hastily.  And  Aunt  Celia  and  Betty  saw  Dr.  Sockabesin  carry  Princess 
Wisla  out  of  the  room,  old  Winne-Lackee  following,  her  face  grim  but 
her  eyes  looking  frightened. 

Poor  Phi  was  sobbing,  his  face  half  buried  in  the  pillows,  not  car- 
ing who  saw  him  cry  like  a  girl. 

"There  is  something  so  strange  about  this  that  I  am  going  to  send 
a  message  to  your  father  to  come  down  at  once!"  said  Aunt  Celia  to 
her  niece  Betty. 

"But  Princess  Wisla  couldn't  be  our  Peggy  Piper  and  not  know  it, 
could  she ;"  cried  Betty,  who  was  beginning  to  feel  like  Patty  Plummer 
who  believed  in  witches  and  fairies.    • 

Aunt  Celia  herself  felt  a  little  like  that  but  in  spite  of  it  she  went 
directly  from  the  hospital  and  sent  a  message  to  Dr.  Brooks  asking  him 
to  come  to  Bar  Harbor  at  once. 

When  he  answered,  saying  he  would  be  there  on  the  boat  that 
reached  the  Harbor  at  noon,  the  next  day,  she  drew  a  long  breath. 

The  next  morning,  after  Sidney  and  Betty  had  been  to  see  Phi  at 
the  hospital,  they  walked  down  to  the  wharves  where  it  was  very  gay, 
with  sail-boats  and  row-boats  coming  and  going. 

The  steamer  was  blowing  puffs  of  black  smoke  and  screaming  as 
loud  as  it  could  because  it  was  just  going  to  sail  away. 

Aunt  Celia  hired  a  sailor  to  take  them  out  in  a  little  boat  and  the 
little  boat  almost  "stood  on  its  head,"  as  Sidney  said,  between  the  great 
waves  that  the  steamer  made  as  it  turned  around. 

But  Betty  forgot  to  be  afraid.  She  had  caught  sight  of  a  grim 
face  at  a  stateroom  window  as  the  steamer  turned. 

"Oh,  Aunt  Celia !    The  old  squaw !"  slie  cried. 

When  Aunt  Celia  looked  there  was  another  face  at  the  window. 
Little  Princess  Wisla  caught  sight  of  them,  leaned  far  out  and  waved 
her  hand  to  Betty. 

"They  are  carrying  Princess  Wisla  off  again !"  cried  Betty.  "And 
see !  with  the  sun  shining  on  her  face  how  much  she  looks  like  our  own 
Pegey  Piper !     Oh !  Aunt  Celia  what  shall  we  do  ?" 

(to  be  concluded.) 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


SEA  GULLS  AND  CRICKETS. 

Sea  gulls  are  large  white  birds  who  make  their  home  near  the 
water.     They  are  beautiful  birds  with  great  white  wings  which  help 


MRS.   EMMELINE  B,   WELLS,  WHO  UNVEILED  THE  MONUMENT. 

them  to  fly  long  distances  over  land  and  water.  They  are  wild  and  not 
easily  tamed,  yet  they  once  proved  to  be  very  kind,  friends  to  a  people 
in  sore  need. 

In  1847  when  the  pioneers  came  to  the  Salt  Lake  Valley  they 


592  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

brought  with  them  food  enough  for  one  year.  They  hoped  by  the  end 
of  that  time  to  have  grain  and  vegetables  growing  which  would  give 
them  plenty  to  eat,  and  so  they  worked  very  hard  digging  and  planting 
and  watering  to  raise  the  precious  crops. 

In  the  spring  of  1848  the  new  farms  were  beautiful  with  the  shin- 
ing green  grain  and  young  vegetables,  and  everybody  was  happy  in  the 
thought  of  the  good  food  which  the  harvest  would  bring.     Then  a  ter- 
rible thing  happened,  the  crickets  came  in  such  numbers  that  they  looked 
like  dark  clouds,  and  where 
ever  they  rested  they  ate  all 
the  green  and  left  only  the 
dry  earth  with  all  its  beauty 
gone. 

The  people,  young  and 
old,  tried  to  drive  them 
away.  All  day  long  they 
would  chase  them,  trying  to 
keep  them  off  the  fields. 
Ditches  were  dug  and  the 
water  turned  in  and  the 
crickets  driven  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  ditches  in 
hopes  that  they  would  be 
drowned.  Bon  fires  were 
built  to  try  and  frighten  or 
bum  them  away.  But 
everything  failed  and  star- 
vation seemed  to  be  coming 
which  would  mean  that  all 
would  die,  for  there  would 
be  no  more  food  unless  the 
crops  could  ripen.  The 
nearest  place  where  sup- 
plies could  be  obtained  was 
over  a  thousand  miles  away. 
M.^HONRi  M.  YOUNG.  .^here  were  no  trains,  only 

T..     Sculptor   who   d«.gned   th«   monument-      ^^^^^   ^^   ^^   ^j^j^   ^j   ,he 

long,  dreary  desert  to  cross.  No  wonder  many  of  the  people  were  fright- 
ened. But  the  Lord  did  not  intend  that  His  people  should  starve  to 
death,  an<l  when  the  prayers  of  the  faithful  pioneers  were  ofTered  to 
Him.  He  sent  the  gulls.  At  first  it  was  thought  that  the  birds  would 
take  whatever  the  crickets  bad  left,  and  you  can  imagine  the  joy  and 
happiness  of  all  when  they  saw  these  great  white  birds  swallowing  the 
horrid  pests  in  such  numbers  that  soon  what  had  appeared  as  clouds 
were  slowly  but  surely  disappearing,  and  only  when  the  ground  was 
once  more  clear  of  the  crickets  did  the  gulls  return  to  their  homes  by 
the  waters  of  the  Salt  Lake. 


7  HE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  593 

The  Latter-day  Saints  should  never  forget  this  wonderful  manifes- 
tation of  goodness  and  to  help  them  to  remember  the  Church  has  erected 
a  beautiful  monument  which  tells  the  story  of  the  sea  gulls  and  the 
pioneers,  and  yOu  can  look  at  the  picture  of  it  now  or,  when  you  have 
time  go  to  the  tabernacle  grounds  in  Salt  Lake  City  and  see  it  stand- 
ing tall  and  stately  surrounded  by  green  lawns,  flowers,  beautiful  trees, 
and  the  great  Temple,  Tabernacle  and  Assembly  Hall,  all  of  which  tell 
of  the  faithful  labors  of  the  Saints.  i 

The  design  for  the  monument  was  made  by  Mahonri  M.  Young, 
one  of  President  Brigham  Young's  grandsons.  That  is  a  very  nice  thing 
to  have  happen,  for  it  is  an  honor  to  the  great  leader  of  the  pioneers  and 
it  is  a  beautiful  tribute  for  a  grandson  to  use  his  talents  in  remember- 
ance  of  the  goodness  of  God  and  the  worthy  labors  of  his  grandfather. 

Mrs.  Emmeline  B.  Wells,  the  General  President  of  the  Relief 
Societies,  was  chosen  to  unveil  the  monument  because  she  was  one  of 
the  pioneers  who  saw  the  crickets  and  can  remember  all  about  the  inci- 
dent. We  wish  every  boy  and  girl  could  see  Sister  Wells  and  listen  to 
her  tell  this  or  some  other  of  the  many  interesting  stories  of  long  ago 
which  she  tells  in  the  most  interesting  manner.  Dear  "Aunt  Em/*  as 
so  many  call  her,  is  today  a  lady  of  great  mental  strength  and  ability, 
and  it  is  hard  to  believe  that  she  is  now  eighty-five  years  old. 

The  beautiful  monument  was  dedicated  by  Joseph  F.  Smith,  the 
President  of  the  Church;  he,  too,  saw  the  crickets  and  the  gulls  and 
bears  his  testimony  to  the  power  of  God.  There  were  others  present 
who  related  what  they  knew  of  the  wonders  of  the  year  1848.  The 
day  was  beautiful,  there  was  sweet  music,  and  in  the  Tabernacle  grounds 
were  crowds  of  people  who  were  filled  with  rejoicing  and  gratitude. 

"Father,  all  things  together  sing, — 

The  earth  below,  the  skies  above  '' 

And  all  the  airs  that  'round  us  breathe, — 
The  fulness  of  Thy  watchful  love." 

THANKSGIVING  ACROSTIC. 

r  is  for  turkey  the  biggest  in  town, 
I  is  for  Hattie  who  baked  it  so  brown, 

A  is  for  apples  the  best  we  could  find,  •   / 

N  is  for  nuts  that  we  eat  when  weVe  dined,  '    i  \ 

K  is  for  kisses  for  those  we  love  best, 

S  is  for  salad  we  serve  to  each  guest.  •   i   - 

J  is  for  gravy  that  every  one  takes, 

1    is  for  ice  cream  that  comes  with  the  cakes, 

V  is  for  verses  on  peppermint  drops, 

I's  for  inquiries  when  any  one  stops, 

N's  for  the  way  that  we  nibble  our  cheese, 

G  IS  for  grace  which  we  say  for  all  these. 


594  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.       •  ', " 

BESSIE'S  BIRTHDAY  INSPIRATION 

BY  ELSIE  CHAMBERLAIN  CARROLL. 

It  was  a  warm,  sunny  day  in  July.  The  sun  was  shining  bright, 
turning  the  spray  of  water  at  the  fountain  near  which  Bessie  sat,  to 
drops  of  gold.  A  little  humming  bird  had  found  the  first  scarlet  run- 
ners to  bloom  on  the  trellis  near  the  hedge.  The  air  was  sweet  with 
the  scent  of  roses,  and  carnations  and  sweet-peas  combined.  In  fact, 
Mother  Nature  in  a  dozen  ways,  seemed  to  be  trying  to  bring  a  smile  to 
the  pale  face  of  the  little  girl  who  sat  in  the  reclining  chair  in  the  tiny 
arbor.  But  Bessie  would  not  smile.  She  had  pushed  back  the  picture 
books  and  games  on  the  little  stand  near  by ;  "Louise  Marie,"  her  big, 
beautiful  doll,  lay  neglected  in  the  garden  seat  beside  her ;  even  Snow- 
ball, her  fluffy,  favorite  white  kitten,  purred  unheeded  at  her  feet.  The 
frown  on  Bessie's  face  suggested  that  she  might  be  carrying  all  the 
troubles  in  the  world  on  her  small  shoulders. 

You  must  know  that  Bessie  was  just  recovering  from  scarlet  fever. 
This  was  the  very  first  day  the  doctor  had  permitted  her  to  sit  out  of 
doors,  but  even  that  privilege  could  not  make  up  for  a  very  great  disap- 
pointment she  had  received  that  morning. 

Every  summer  Bessie  and  her  papa  and  mama  and  brother  Bobby 
spent  a  couple  of  months  in  the  canyon.  They  usually  went  about  the 
first  of  July  and  Bessie  always  gave  a  canyon  party  to  her  friends  on 
her  birthday  which  came  July  12th. 

That  morning  the  doctor  had  said  they  could  not  go  to  the  canyon 
before  the  first  of  August,  if  it  would  be  safe  for  them  to  go  at  alL  Of 
course  Bessie  was  not  the  only  one  disappointed  by  this  verdict.  There 
was  Bobby,  lying  at  this  moment  a  short  distance  away  on  the  lawn, 
who  had  been  compelled  to  give  up  plans  quite  as  important  to  him,  as 
the  birthday  party.  But  Bessie  was  not  thinking  of  that.  She  was  only 
thinking  of  Alice  and  Jennie  and  Marian,  whose  families  had  already 
gone  to  the  canyon,  and  of  Belle  and  Dora  and  Mabel  who  would  prob- 
ably join  them  before  the  week  yet  intervening  before  July  12th.  She 
was  also  thinking  that  she  had  more  troubles  than  any  little  girl  in  the 
whole  world. 

Miss  Gray,  the  trained  nurse  who  had  helped  Dr.  Burke  pull  Bessie 
safely  through  her  illness,  glanced  up  from  the  book  she  was  reading 
and  saw  the  frown  on  her  little  charge's  brow.  She  laid  down  her  book 
and  came  and  sat  in  the  garden  seat  near  Bessie's  chair. 

"Would  you  like  me  to  tell  you  a  story?"  she  asked  in  her  sweet 
gentle  voice. 

Bessie's  face  brightened  in  spite  of  herself,  for  if  there  was  any- 
thing about  her  sickness  that  had  been  a  pleasure  it  had  been  Miss 
Gray's  stories. 

Bobby  heard  the  words  and  jumping  up,  came  and  sat  down  with 
Snowball  at  the  nurse's  feet. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  595 

"This  is  going  to  be  a  true  story,"  Miss  Gray  began. 

"Over  in  P ,  not  very  many  miles  from  here,  there  once  lived 

a  happy  family.  There  was  a  papa  and  a  mama  and  a  little  girl  named 
Mary,  two  little  brothers  named  Jack  and  Harry,  and  a  baby  named 
Blossom.  They  were  poor  and  lived  in  a  tiny  house  with  only  four 
rooms,  but  the  mama  kept  the  house  neat  and  clean,  and  they  loved  6ach 
other  and  were  always  cheerful,  and  that  made  the  little  cottage  into  a 
beautiful  home.  The  papa  was  not  strong  but  he  took  care  of  a  few 
acres  of  ground  and  managed  to  get  enough  to  feed  and  clothe  his  loved 
ones.  But  one  day  he  received  a  stroke  in  the  sun  and  a  short  time 
afterwards  he  died.  Then  the  mama  tried  to  keep  the  house  neat  and 
clean  and  care  for  the  little  farm,  too.  Good  neighbors  helped  her  some 
but  the  work  was  too  much  for  her,  and  one  cold  winter  she  took 
pneumonia  and  never  got  well  again. 

"Little  Mary  was  twelve  years  old  then.  Jack  and  Harry  were 
ten  and  eight  and  baby  Blossom  was  five. 

"The  neighbors  decided  that  the  children  should  be  sent  to  different 
homes  to  live,  but  Mary  begged  them  to  let  them  remain  in  the  little 
home  together.  'I  am  big  and  strong  and  so  are  the  boys.  We  can  do 
the  work  if  you  will  only  let  us  stay.  I  promised  mama  I  would  be  a 
little  mother  and  take  her  place,  and  I  can't  if  you  make  us  go  away/ 
Some  of  the  neighbors  shook  their  heads  doubtfully,  but  it  was  agreed 
to  let  them  try  it  for  awhile. 

"Kind  hands  did  the  heaviest  part  of  the  work  for  the  little  orphans, 
but  they  all  worked  like  brave  little  heroes.  Little  Mary  went 
about  singing  all  day  long  and  speaking  kind  words  to  her  brothers  and 
little  sister.  She  said  she  did  it  so  the  house  would  not  seem  so  lone- 
some with  mama  away.  The  neighbors  began  to  call  her  'Happy  Mary,' 
and  after  a  while  they  left  off  the  Mary  and  she  was  known  to  every  one 
as  little  Happy. 

"For  two  years  all  went  well  in  the  home  of  the  orphans,  then  one 
day  when  Happy  was  standing  on  a  ladder  cleaning  a  window  she 
slipped  and  fell  and  hurt  her  back.  For  weeks  and  weeks  she  lay  and 
the  doctor  could  not  tell  whether  she  would  live  or  die.  But  at  last  she 
began  to  grow  better  little  by  little,  and  the  old  cheerful  light  came 
back  into  her  pale  little  face.  Kind  friends  did  all  they  could  for  her 
and  kept  up  the  little  home.  Every  time  the  doctor  came  he  thought 
he  would  break  some  terrible  news  to  her,  but  each  time  her  own 
cheeriness  disarmed  him  and  he  went  away  with  a  look  of  silent  sad- 
ness. 

"One  day  in  spring  Happy  said :  'Come,  Doctor,  you  haven't  told 
me  when  I  can  get  out  of  this  chair.  It  will  soon  be  time  to  plant  my 
seeds.  A  robin  has  been  calling  me  all  day.  Can  I  walk  to  the  door 
tomorrow  and  tell  him  I'm  coming  out  into  the  garden  soon?' 

"The  kind  old  doctor  took  the  child's  frail  little  hand.  He  cleared 
his  throat  two  or  three  times  before  he  could  find  courage  to  speak.  At 
last  he  said  very  slowly  and  tenderly: 


596  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

"  'Dear  little  Happy,  Fm  afraid  you  will  have  to  tell  the  robin  it 
will  be  a  long  time  before  you  will  come  out  in  your  garden  again?' 

"She  looked  up  at  him  with  startled  eyes.  Then  the  pain  in  his 
face  told  her  the  truth  he  dreaded  so  to  speak. 

"  *You  mean — *  she  faltered  with  the  quiver  of  a  sob  in  her  throat— 
'that — I — shall — never — walk  again?'  The  doctor  nodded  his  head 
slowly.  The  child  turned  paler  still  and  closed  her  eyes  as  a  little  moan 
passed  her  lips.  She  lay  so  white  and  still  that  at  last  the  doctor 
touched  her  hand.  She  opened  her  eyes  and  smiled  a  brave  little  smile. 
*I  was  thinking  of  the  boys  and  Blossom/  she  said.  .'But  they  are  older 
now  than  they  were  last  summer.  Jackie  is  quite  a  man.  Tm  glad  it 
didn't  happen  before.  I  can  have  a  chair  with  wheels,  can't  I  doctor, 
and  I  can  get  around  a  little  to  make  them  feel  that  Fm  still  helping?' 
She  waited  wistfully  for  his  answer.  The  child's  courage  shamed  the 
man. 

"  'Of  course  you  can,  you  brave  little  Trojan,'  the  doctor  said 
warmly,  glad  that  the  ordeal  was  over.  'And  I  have  hopes,'  he  con- 
tinued, 'that  when  you  get  a  little  stronger  you  can  even  get  around  with 
crutches.' 

"Happy  interrupted  him  with  a  little  cry  of  joy.  'O  thank  you! 
I'll  try  to  grow  strong.  I'll  pray  to  g^ow  strong.  With  crutches  I 
could  do  so  much  more  than  having  to  stay — always — in  a  chair.' 

"  'But  Fm  afraid,'  the  voice  of  the  doctor  continued,  eager  to  get 
it  all  over  with,  'that  no  matter  how  strong  you  become  you  can  never 
stand  erect.  There  is  one  chance  in  many  that  if  you  underwent  a  very 
critical  and  expensive  operation  you  might  become  perfectly  normal 
again.' 

"Happy  sat  still  again  for  several  seconds,  then  she  brushed  back  a 
coward  tear  and  exclaimed  with  a  little  laugh,  'I'm  so  glad  it  was  my 
back  instead  of  my  head.  Even  if  I  can't  walk  I  can  talk  and  laugh  and 
sing  and  love  and  be  happy,  and  all  that  helps,  you  know.' 

"  'I  should  say  it  does  help,'  the  doctor  responded.  'If  all  the 
patients  in  the  world  were  as  brave  as  you,  we  doctors  would  soon  go 
out  of  business.'  When  he  left  her  a  Ijttle  later  she  was  singing  a  gay 
little  song  as  her  darning  needle  deftly  darned  up  a  hole  in  one  of  Jacks 
stockings. 

"That  was  more  than  a  year  ago.  As  the  doctor  predicted,  when 
strength  returned  to  the  little  invalid  she  was  able  to  get  about  with 
crutches.  She  directs  the  work  of  her  brothers,  and  their  home  i> 
as  cheerful  as  ever.  The  doctor  is  now  certain  that  Happy  could  be 
entirely  cured  if  she  could  afford  to  undergo  that  expensive  operation. 
He  has  done  all  that  he  can  for  her  and  thie  rest  would  have  to  be  done 
by  expert  specialists. 

"Many  friends  would  gladly  do  all  they  could  for  the  child,  but 

P is  a  little  country  town  where  no  wealthy  people  live.    It  is 

about  all  each  family  can  do  to  procure  the  necessities  of  life. 

"It  is  the  great  object  of  Happy's  devoted  brothers  and  of  littk 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  597 

Blossom  to  grow  big  enough  to  earn  money  to  send  dear  sister  to  the 
hospital."  Miss  Gray  stopped  and  her  eyes  rested  for  an  instant  on  the 
absorbed  faces  of  her  young  listeners,  then  making  an  excuse  she  arose 
and  went  into  the  house,  leaving  the  children  alone. 

For  some  time  they  sat  in  silence,  then  Bessie  brushed  two  glisten- 
ing tears  from  her  eyes  and  said :  "Aren't  we  wicked  and  selfish,  Bobby, 
to  complain  and  be  miserable  when  we  have — everything  and  that  poor 
little  Happy — ,"  she  stopped  with  a  little  catch  in  her  throat. 

".Gee,  I  should  say  !'*  Bobby  assented  solemnly  and  his  hands  went 
deep  into  his  pockets  as  they  always  did  when  serious  problems  per- 
plexed his  mind. 

After  another  silence  Bessie  clapped  her  hands. 

"O,  Bobby,"  she  exclaimed,  "I've  just  had  what  mama  calls  an — 
inspiration  when  she  thinks  of  some  splendid  thing  to  do  for  somebody. 
IVe  just  had  a  beautiful  inspiration  about  my  birthday  and  that  dear 
little  Happy  over  in  P ." 

When  Miss  Gray  returned  a  half  hour  later  she  found  the  children 
in  eager  conversation.  Every  trace  of  gloom  had  left  Bessie's  face  and 
instead  it  was  aglow  with  tender  radiance. 


The  doctor  sanctioned  the  birthday  party,  provided  Miss  Gray 
should  see  that  it  did  not  become  too  lively  for  their  little  patient.  She 
assisted  in  planning  the  games  and  making  all  arrangements. 

Bessie's  canyon  chums  all  agreed  to  be  present  and  she  invited  a 
large  number  still  in  the  city,  while  Bobby  carried  invitations  to  a  doz^n 
of  his  friends. 

When  the  afternoon  of  the  party  arrived,  Bessie  was  in  a  state  of 
happy  excitement.  The  games  progressed  without  a  hitch  under  Miss 
Gray's  supervision  and  the  delicious  refreshments  were  served  in  a  de- 
lightful manner.  Then  Bessie  announced  eagerly,  "All  of  you  sit  down 
now,  boys  and  girls,  and  Miss  Gray  will  tell  us  a  story."  'The  merry 
confusion  was  hushed  and  Miss  Gray  told  again  in  her  simple,  beautiful 

way  the  stgry  of  the  brave  little  girl  over  in  P whom  everyone 

knew  as  Happy.  When  she  finished  many  of  the  girls  were  wiping  their 
eyes  and  the  boys  seemed  suddenly  seized  with  an  epidemic  of  coughing. 

"I  have  a  plan  to  tell  you  about,"  Bessie  began.  "I  think  it  is 
wicked  and  selfish  for  us  all  to  enjoy  so  much  and  let  that  dear  little 
thing  suflFer  for  what  we  might  give  her.  Miss  Gray  wrote  to  the  doc- 
tors at  the  hospital  and  learned  that  the  operation  can  be  performed  for 
two  hundred  dollars.  Papa  promised  me  a  gold  locket  for  my  birthday. 
I  got  him  to  give  me  the  money  instead.  Here  it  is.  I'm  going  to 
make  it  a  nest  egg  for  Happy !s  hospital  fund."  She  stopped  and  looked 
expectantly  at  Bobby.  "Here's  anotherr  egg  for  the  nest.  Fifteen  dol- 
lars I  was  going  to  have  for  a  bicycle  this  fall.  I  guess  while  I  have 
two  strong  legs  and  a  straight  back  I  can  afford  to  walk  if  that  will  help 
someone  else  to  grow  straight  and  strong.'' 


1 


598  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

"Of  course  I  haven't  the  money  here,  but  FU  bring  over  another 
fifteen  in  the  morning  that  was  going  to  buy  a  bicycle  like  Bob's,"  said 
Charlie  Fulton  eagerly,  and  then  there  was  a  chorus  of  enthusiastic 
young  voices  with  their  loving  offers. 

"Fll  get  a  paper  and  pencil  and  we'll  see  just  what  kind  of  a  sub- 
scription list  we  can  make,"  suggested  Miss  Gray.  When  she  had 
completed  it,  the  list  read  thus : 

Bessie's  "gold  locket". $  10.00 

Bobby's  "bicycle"   15.00 

Charlie's  "bicycle"   15.00 

Clara's  "pink  sash" 1.00 

Marian's  "music  cabinet" 7.50 

Alice's  "fur  set" 10.00 

Henry's  "skates" 1.50 

George's  "basket  ball"  2.00 

Jennie's  "trip  to  C " 10.00 

Maurice's  "mandolin"   10.00 

Tom's  "base  ball  suit" 7.50 

Blanche's  "tennis  racquet"   2.00 

Karl's  "Harvester"  1.50 

Beulah's  "berry  money" 1.00 

Henry ;s  "pony  cart" 5.00 

Terry's  "paper  money"   1.00 

Belle's  "satin  pumps" 3.00 

Kate's  "ring" 5.00 

Minnie's  "writing  desk"  10.00 

Leonard's  ''pony"   50.00 

Bert's  *'egg  money"   5.00 

Paul's  "picture  shows"   2.00 

Lettie's  "ice  cream" 3.00 

Dora's  "Art  lessons" 25.00 

Mellie's  "candy"   2.00 

Miss  Gray's  "services" 50.00 

Total $255.00 

Miss  Gray  read  the  list  aloud  when  it  was  finished  and  the  children 
clapped  their  hands  in  satisfaction. 

"The  extra  fifty-five  dollars  will  help  keep  Jack  and  Harr\*  and 
little  Blossom  while  Happy  is  away,"  suggested  Bobby. 

*********  **♦ 

Three  weeks  later  the  postman  brought  Bessie  a  letter  which  read 
as  follows: 

"My  dear  Bessie :     It  will  make  you  so  happy  to  know  that  the 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  599 

operation  has  been  performed  successfully.  The  doctors  say  that  our 
little  Happy  is  now  out  of  danger.  In  a  few  weeks  she  will  return  home 
as  straight  and  strong  as  any  of  you.  It  is  impossible  for  her  to  express: 
all  the  gratitude  she  feels  for  what  you  and  your  friends  have  done  for 
her.  When  she  talks  of  it  the  tears  fill  her  big  bright  eyes  and  rum 
down  her  cheeks  and  she  whispers  over  and  over,  'God  bless  them  !  God 
bless  them!' 

"With  much  love  to  all  of  you,  I  am, 

"Yours  devotedly, 

"Bertha  Gray.'' 


PREPARATION  FOR  WINTER. 

BY  NORA  KOTTER. 

Mrs.  Delton  sat  in  her  easy  cane  rocker,  which  stood  on  the  vine 
covered  porch  of  a  neat  little  cottage,  artistically  arranging  and  stitching 
a  dainty  design  formed  with  a  narrow  silk  braid,  on  the  panel  of  a 
child's  dress. 

As  she  sat  busily  occupied  with  this  work,  she  was  naming  over  a 
number  of  articles  which  she  intended  to  purchase  on  the  morrow. 
Presently  a  blue-eyed,  rosy-cheeked,  plump  little  girl  of  five,  with  golden 
curls  hanging  carelessly  about  her  shoulders,  ran  up  on  to  the  porch, 
and  stopping  in  front  of  Mrs.  Delton,  gazed  admiringly  at  the  dress  for 
a  moment,  and  then  said,  "O,  mama,  you  have  my  new  dress  almost  fin- 
ished, haven't  you?  isn't  it  pretty!  May  I  wear  it  next  Sunday,  mama?" 
Mrs.  Delton,  as  she  pinned  back  a  cluster  of  curls  from  Nellie's  fore- 
head, said  "You  would  be  very  uncomfortable  in  this  dress  next  Sun- 
day, Nellie,  as  it  is  made  of  a  heavy  wool  serge,  and  is  only  to  be  worn 
on  very  cold  days."  The  little  girl  gave  a  very  disappointed  sigh,  and 
said,  "Mama,  why  are  you  making  it  now?  Why  don't  you  wait  till 
the  cold  days  come?" 

Mrs.  Delton,  laying  her  work  aside,  and  telling  Nellie  to  get  her 
little  red  chair  and  sit  beside  her,  answered  her  as  follows :  "Look  at 
those  bees  over  there  on  that  flower  bed,  do  you  know  what  they  are 
doing,  Nellie?"  "They  are  flying  from  one  flower  to  another,  mama." 
"Yes,  and  as  they  go  from  one  tiny  blossom  to  another,  they  sip  the 
honey  from  it,  carry  it  to  their  hives,  and  store  it  away  for  winter ;  the 
little  squirrels  are  very  busy  in  the  \yoods,  gathering  acorns  and  nuts 
and  storing  them  away  in  their  homes  for  their  food  when  cold  winter 
comes  and  the  ground  is  covered  with  a  snowy  blanket ;  Nero's  and 
pussy's  fur  will  soon  be  much  heavier  than  it  is  now ;  the  little  birds 
that  have  sung  so  sweetly  to  us  all  summer,  will  leave  their  nests  in  the 
tall  trees,  and  go  to  a  warmer  country ;  the  bears,  in  the  mountains,  will 
be  hunting  for  a  thick  pine  tree,  or  a  large  hole  or  cave  in  which  to 
sleep  the  long  winter  months  away :  the  leaves  will  come  fluttering  down 
from  the  trees,  to  lighten  the  burden  of  the  branches,  which  will  be 


if 
<i 


600  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

decorated  with  snow ;  the  plants  and  flowers  are  carefully  storing  their 
seeds  away,  in  pods  and  shells,  to  protect  them  from  the  frost. 

All  Nature  knows  that  winter  is  coming  and  is  busily  preparing 
for  it.     Do  you  remember  last  year  at  Thanksgiving  time,  our  visit  with 
Uncle  John,  on  his  farm  ?" 
Yes,  mama." 
Where  did  he  go  to  get  those  fine  red  apples  for  us?" 

^'From  a  hole  in  the  ground,  mama/* 

"Yes,  he  got  them  from  a  pit.  Uncle  John  had  been  working  very 
hard  for  two  months  or  more,  gathering  his  fruit  and  vegetables,  and 
storing  them  away  for  winter ;  Aunt  May  had  been  working  all  summer 
putting  up  all  of  that  nice  fruit  and  those  good  pickles  in  her  cellar.  I, 
too.. Nellie,  am  working  hard  to  get  nice  warm  clothes  made  for  you 
and  your  little  brothers ;  grandma  is  knitting  woolen  stockings  for  you, 
so  that  when  the  snow  comes  whirling  down  and  the  cold  north  winds 
blow,  with  Jack  Frost  ever  ready  to  nip  the  noses  of  little  girls  and 
boys,  I  want  to  be  prepared,  just  as  well  as  the  little  bees,  the  squirrels, 
the  bears,  the  birds,  Nero  and  pussy,  the  trees  and  the  flowers,  to  say, 
"Come  cold  winter,  I  am  ready !" 

Just  then  Nellie's  little  friend  called  her,  so  putting  her  arms 
around  her  mother's  neck  in  a  very  affectionate  way,  she  said,  "O,  you 
dear  mama,"  and  skipped  away. 


NO  MAIL  FOR  HIM. 

"Yes,"  remarked  the  driver,  as  his  leaders  swept  round  the  tuni 
into  a  lightly  timbered  stretch  of  level  road  in  the  Australian  "bush," 
"you  may  not  believe  it.  but  those  kangaroos  are  as  clever  as  people. 

"Now  there's  Moloney,"  he  continued,  "who  owns  the  section  on 
the  other  side  of  the  creek.  He  trained  one  of  them  to  meet  the 
coach  every  week  and  get  the  letters  for  hfm. 

"The  kangaroo's  pouch  comes  in  real  handy,  ye  see,"  he  added, 
with  the  humor  that  belings  to  the  stage-driver  the  world  over. 

Presently,  as  often  happens  on  a  quiet  country  road,  a  fine  kan- 
garoo, disturbed  by  the  approach  of  his  Majesty's  Royal  Mail,  came 
into  view,  as  he  raised  himself  from  the  grass  where  he  had  been 
feeding,  and  looked  toward  the  coach  with  an  innocent,  inquiring  air. 

The  driver  glanced  at  him  and  shook  his  head. 

"Nothing  for  you  to-day,  old  man!"  he  called,  genially. 

The  kangaroo,  as  if  that  was  all  he  had  been  waiting  for,  hopped 
quickly  out  of  view  among  the  trees,  to  the  amazement  of  the  box- 
traveler  and  intense  enjoyment  of  the  other  occupants  of  the  coach. 
— Cassell's  Magazine, 


I 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  601 

SEVERAL  INCHES, 

BY  M.  LANE  GRIFFIN. 

Twilight  was  creeping  slowly  into  the  city.  A  heavy  fog  hung  low 
about  all  the  buildings,  half  way  shutting  them  out  from  view  and  mak- 
ing the  street  lamps  now  appearing  about  over  the  city  look  dim  and 
far  away.  The  day  was  cold  and  raw — a  **misty,  moisty  evenin*,"  little 
Tim  said  it  was.  Tim  and  his  Aunt  Nina  were  hurrying  home  from  the 
office  where  she  was  employed  as  typewriter. 

The  ground  was  frozen  very  hard,  and  Tim's  little  feet  were  cold ; 
he  hopped  along  first  on  one,  then  upon  the  other,  convinced  that  such 
a  proceeding  would  warm  them  up.  Tim's  little  hands  were  cold,  too, 
and  red  and  chapped.  These  he  warmed  one  at  a  time,  by  snuggling 
them  up  under  the  arm  of  his  auntie's  cape;  skipping  around  to  her 
right  side  to  warm  his  left  hand,  or  back  again,  as  the  case  might  be, 
and  remarking  now  and  then  how  funny  it  seemed  to  him  *'that  folks 
never  could  walk  with  their  left  sides  together." 

Something  in  the  air  caused  Aunt  Nina  to  say,  **T  shouldn't  wonder 
if  we  have  snow  now  very  soon." 

Tim  gave  a  squeal  of  delight,  then  his  face  suddenly  sobered. 

"Oh,  aunty,  an'  I  haven't  got  a  bit  more  of  a  sled  this  winter  than 
I  had  last.     Can't  I  get  one?"  he  begged. 

She  was  sorry  she  had  mentioned  the  snow,  Tt  cut  her  to  the  heart 
that  she  must  again  and  again  deny  her  dear  boy  the  little  privileges 
which  his  friends  enjoyed,  and  which  he  had  begged  for  so  long. 

"My  precious,  aunty  would  get  it — would  love  to  get  it — for  vou  if 
she  could,  but  you  know  it  takes  all  she  makes  to  keep  us  a  home." 

"Yes,  aunty.  T  know  that,"  said  Tim,  "but  you  see  if  you  would  let 
me  go  to  work  T  could  buy  my  sled  myself,  and — and  help  to  take  care 
of  us.  too,"  he  added  eagerly. 

She  smiled  at  his  earnestness.  "But  you  know,  Tim,  there  are 
verv  few  kinds  of  work  that  a  little  fellow  onlv  nine  years  old  can  do." 

"But  there's  some  things,"  asserted  Tim.  "S'pose  I  can  find  some- 
thin'  T  can  do ;  will  you  let  me  stop  school  this  winter  an'  do  it?" 

Aunt  Nina  laughed  and  attempted  to  change  the  subject,  but  Tim 
was  not  to  be  put  off  or  evaded.  He  persisted  and  urged  for  her  promise 
until  she  finally  said,  to  quiet  him,  "Well,  well,  if  anything  turns  up  that 
you  can  do  without  being  exposed  to  the  weather,  I  promise  you  shall 
do  it." 

She  thought  he  would  forget  about  it,  and  hoped  he  would ;  but 
Tim  was  not  the  kind  of  a  boy  who  forgets  what  he  has  once  made  up 
his  mind  to  do.  While  Aunt  Nina  was  getting  their  supper  in  the  tiny 
kitchen,  Tim  got  a  lot  of  newspapers  down  from  the  rack  where  they 
were  kept,  and  spreading  them  out  on  the  table,  pored  over  their  pas:cc. 
spelling  out  the  advertisements  in  the  "want  column."     One  of  his  little 


602  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

schoolfellows  at  the  public  school  had  once  told  him  this  was  the  way 
to  find  work,  and  he  had  never  forgotten  it. 

Presently  Aunt  Nina  heard  the  little  squeal  which  always  heralded 
Tim's  delight  in  sudden  pleasant  happenings;  the  next  moment  he  came 
flying  to  her  with  a  newspaper  spread  wide  open. 

"Here  it  is — the  very  thing!  I  can  do  it — oh,  aunty,  I  just  know 
I  can  do  it!"  he  cried. 

She  took  the  paper  from  the  eager  boy  and  read  aloud  the  par- 
agraph he  pointed  out : 

"Wanted — a  few  reliable  boys  to  fill  candy  boxes.  Apply  at  Blank 
Street  Candv  Kitchen." 

The  date  of  the  paper  was  a  week  old,  and  Aunt  Nina  feared  all  the 
places  had  long  ago  been  filled,  but  she  had  not  the  heart  to  mar  Tim's 
pleasure,  so  the  next  morning,  on  the  way  to  her  work,  she  called  with 
him  at  the  office  of  the  "Candy  Kitchen,"  and  asked  to  see  the  pro- 
prietor of  the  establishment. 

They  were  shown  into  a  small  office  where  a  middle-aged  man  sat. 
busily  writing  at  a  desk. 

"Why,  yes,"  he  said,  when  told  their  errand  by  Aunt  Nina,  "I  did 
advertise  for  boys,  and  have  about  filled  all  the  places,  but  a  boy  got  sick 
and  left  me  yesterday,  so  I  can  put  this  little  fellow  in  his  place.  He 
can  ^tart  in  without  delay  if  you  wish." 

Yes,  indeed,  Tim  did  "wish,"  and  in  less  than  fifteen  minutes  all 
the  arrangements  were  made,  and  Tim  had  become  a  working  boy  at  a 
salary  of  one  dollar  a  week. 

The  work  consisted  of  filling  paper  boxes  with  red  and  white  striped 
stick  candy  which  was  manufactured  at  the  "kitchen."  Great  stacks  of 
candy  were  put  along  the  center  of  a  wide  deal  table  which  extended  the 
entire  length  of  a  long  room,  and  the  boys  stood  around  the  table  and 
filled  the  boxes  from  the  stack  of  candy  in  the  middle. 

Tim  was  about  the  happiest  boy  in  the,  city.  He  felt  like  a  "sure 
enough"  business  man  every  morning,  as  he  and  Aunt  Nina  walked  to 
their  work  together;  and  as  he  got  off  a  little  earlier  in  the  evening 
than  she,  he  always  called  at  her  office  and  escorted  her  home.  When 
Saturday  evening  arrived  and  Tim  was  paid  off  with  the  other  boys,  he 
was  the  proudest  boy  in  the  county.  He  took  his  big,  round  silver  dollar 
out  of  his  pocket  and  looked  at  it  twenty  times  a  day.  and  at  night,  sit- 
ting in  Aunt  Nina's  lap  by  the  fire,  he  told  her  of  the  thousand  and  one 
things  he  was  going  to  buy  for  her  as  soon  as  he  had  paid  for  his  sled. 

"One  more  dollar  will  get  her,"  he  said  joyfully,  stopping  a  moment 
Monday  morning  to  gaze  in  the  shop  window  at  a  certain  blue  sled  "with 
red  streaks  and  swans*  heads  on  the  runners,"  which  he  had  wished  for 
so  long;  he  felt  as  if  he  already  owned  it. 

That  Monday  was  a  day  that  Tim  never  forgot  in  his  life,  for  he 
learned  that  the  happiest  bov  in  the  city  in  the  morning,  may  be  the  most 
miserable  boy  in  the  world  by  night.  He  did  not  call  for  Aunt  Nina  as 
usual  that  evening,  and  after  waiting  for  him  some  time  at  the  office. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  603 

she  hurried  home,  to  find  him  doubled  up  on  the  bed  in  a  forlorn  little 
bundle,  crying  bitterly. 

"No,  I  ain't  sick,"  he  sobbed,  as  she  took  him  in  her  arms  with 
anxious  inquiries,  "no,  aunty,  I  ain't  sick  a  bit,  but — but  I  ain't  goin'  to 
work  any  more,  'cause  the  man  discharged  me !" 

Aunt  Nina  was  considerably  concerned  lest  he  had  committed  some 
offense  that  had  caused  his  discharge,  and  gently  questioned  him,  but 
Tim  did  not  know  why  he  had  been  sent  away.  "No*m,"  he  declared, 
"I  didn't  eat  a  speck  of  candy,  an'  I  didn't  stop  workin'  to  play,  an'  I 
didn't  fight  boys  nor  nothin';  but  that  man  just  come  an'  said,  *I  won't 
need  vou  anv  more.'" 

Aunt  Nina  tried  in  vain  to  console  him;  poor  Tim  was  not  to  be 
comforted.  He  was  indeed  too  miserable  to  eat  his  supper,  and  finally 
cried  himself  into  an  uneasy  sleep. 

In  the  morning  Aunt  Nina  was  quite  distressed  at  his  wan  little 
face,  and  determined  to  call  at  the  Kitchen  and  learn  why  the  little 
fellow  had  been  discharged.  Tim  trotted  along  by  her  side,  feeling  as 
if  the  sun  had  dropped  out  of  the  sky  and  the  bottom  from  the  earth. 

When  they  were  shown  into  Mr.  Osburn's  presence,  that  gentleman 
explained  the  matter  in  a  few  words.  No,  Tim  had  done  nothing 
wrong;  he  was  a  good  boy, — "a  fine,  hard-working  boy,"  he  added 
kindly,  as  he  noticed  the  little  boy's  distress.  **The  whole  matter  was 
simply  this,  madam,"  he  said,  turning  to  the  young  lady.  "I  passed 
through  the  workroom  yesterday,  and  noticed  that  while  the  shoulders 
of  the  other  boys,  all  older  than  Tim,  were  above  the  table,  enabling 
them  to  work  easily,  little  Tim's  were  far  below  it,  so  that  he  was  com- 
pelled to  stretch  up  his  arms  and  keep  them  in  that  position  all  day  in 
order  to  reach  the  table.  To  allow  such  an  injustice  to  continue  would 
be  positive  cruelty,  so  I  told  my  foreman  to  stop  the  child." 

Tim  could  not  understand  why  Aunt  Nina  said,  "Indeed,  sir,  I  am 
very  grateful  for  your  thoughtful  kindness."  Tim  didn't  see  what  sort 
of  kindness  it  was  to  discharge  a  boy  just  because  he  held  his  arms  up, 
and  he  ventured  a  little  protest. 

"I  didn't  mind  holdin'  my  hands  up,"  he  said ;  "I'd  just  as  lief  do 
it  as  not." 

Mr,  Osburn  smiled  at  this.  "Yes,  my  little  man,"  he  said,  "but  it 
would  eventually  tell  on  your  health.  I  am  sorry,"  he  added,  turning 
again  to  the  young  lady,  "and  I  would  willingly  keep  the  little  boy ;  but 
as  you  must  see,  there  is  absolutely  no  way  to  obviate  the  difficulty. 
However,  when  he  has  added  several  inches  to  his  stature,  bring  him 
back  and  I  will  be  glad  to  take  him  on  the  force  again.  I  must  ask  you 
to  excuse  me  now,  as  my  work  is  pressing." 

He  turned  to  his  desk,  and  Aunt  Nina,  understanding  that  they 
were  dismissed,  hurriedly  arose  and  left  the  apartment,  followed  by 
Tim,  with  tears  trickling  down  his  face. 

"How  long  does  it  take  to  grow  sev  al  inches,  aunty?"  he  inquired 
mournfully  as  they  reached  the  street. 


604  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

Fearing  she  would  add  to  his  misery  by  telling  him  the  truth,  Aunt 
Nina  evaded  the  question  by  saying  she  was  not  quite  sure  how  long. 
She  was  so  relieved  to  find  no  offense  held  against  the  child  that  she 
was  disposed  to  feel  quite  cheerful  and  to  laugh  over  the  matter  with 
Tim.  But  Tim  saw  nothing  in  the  matter  to  inspire  levity ;  he  was  a 
discharged  boy,  with  no  longer  any  prospect  of  a  "blue  sled  with  red 
streaks:"  no  salary  to  buy  things  for  aunty  .and  help  her  pay  her  bills: 
and  he  was  profoundly  miserable.  There  was  but  one  glimmer  of  hope 
on  his  mournful  horizon — the  man  had  promised  to  take  him  back;  and 
from  that  day  the  chief  object  in  Tim's  life  was  to  grow  "sev'al  inches." 

He  assiduously  studied  and  followed  every  rule  for  promoting 
growth  that  he  found  in  books  or  heard  discussed.  He  had  never  cared 
much  for  the  gymnasium  at  school,  but  now  he  devoted  himself  to  it 
with  a  vigor  that  won  him  the  applause  of  his  teachers.  When  Aunt 
Nina  bought  new  clothes  for  him,  he  carefully  picked  out  the  highest- 
heeled  shoes  and  the  tallest  standing  collars  to  be  found  in  the  store, 
and  acquired  a  habit  of  carrying  his  head  so  erect  that  the  school  bo\-s 
asked  him  if  he  had  swallowed  a  ramrod. 

Three  or  four  times  a  day  he  would  tack  up  against  the  wall,  place 
a  book  upon  his  head  and  call  Aunt  Nina  to  mark  his  exact  height  on 
the  plaster.  All  the  walls  of  their  house  were  decorated  with  these 
marks  and  hieroglyphics  in  Tim's  impossible  chirography,  stating  the 
exact  time  of  day  the  measure  was  taken. 

But  in  spite  of  all  hij  efforts,  Tim  was  astonised  to  find,  at  the  end 
of  two  whole  weeks,  no  visible  change  in  his  height.  The  discover} 
sent  his  spirits  down  below  zero,  and  when  he  awoke  the  next  morning 
to  find  that  the  long- wished- for  snow  had  come  in  the  night,  his  cup  of 
unhappiness  seemed  full  to  overflowing. 

The  snow  lay  on  the  ground  six  inches  deep  and  was  still  coming 
down  in  great  soft  flakes.  By  seven  o'clock  the  air  was  full  of  the 
tinkling  sound  of  sleigh  bells ;  half  the  vehicles  in  the  city  had  been 
lifted  off  their  wheels,  set  upon  hastily  constructed  runners,  and  were 
gliding  through  the  streets  packed  with  merry,  laughing  young  people. 

Tim  stood  at  the  window  and  watched  the  boys — big  boys  and  little 
boys — as  they  went  hurrying  along  in  troops  toward  the  hill,  laughing, 
shouting,  cutting  capers  like  frisky  colts,  and  dragging  behind  them 
sleighs  of  every  description. — old  ones,  revealing  to  Tim*s  experienced 
eves  the  number  of  years  thev  had  done  service  bv  the  varying  amount 
of  faded  paint  that  still  clung  to  their  battered  sides — and  lots  of  '*bran 
new  ones.''  that  made  beautiful  spots  of  color  on  the  wide  stretch  of 
spotless  white  snow :  red  ones,  green  ones,  and — yes.  there  was  the  iden- 
tical blue  with  red  streaks  that  Tim  had  coveted  so  long.  He  could  see 
the  graceful  swans'  heads  on  the  turns  of  the  ninners,  and  fancied,  too. 
that  he  could  detect  the  odor  which  he  did  not  know  was  paint,  but 
supposed  to  be  a  peculiarity  attaching  to  new  toys  in  general,  and  to  red 
and  blue  sleds  in  particular. 

Tt  was  all  too  much  for  poor  Tim,  and  though  he  tried  hard  to  be 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  605 

brave,  presently  burst  into  tears,  with  his  head  down  on  the  window 
ledge. 

Aunt  Nina's  arms  came  out  of  the  biscuit  dough,  she  was  working 
for  breakfast,  and  were  around  him  in  a  minute. 

'*Don't  cry,  poor  boy!*'  she  besought  him,  though  her  own  eyes 
were  full  of  tears.  In  her  anxiety  to  help  him  she  suggested  many  ex- 
pedients. Wouldn't  Sam  Boody  let  him  ride  on  his  sleigh?  No,  Tim 
did  not  like  to  ask  favors  of  boys.  Well,  did  Tim  think  it  possible  that 
he  and  she  might  make  a  sled  ?  She  had  once,  when  a  little  girl,  helped 
her  brother  construct  one  of  the  two  rockers  of  an  old  chair  and  a 
cracker  box. 

Tim's  sobs  ceased  instantly,  at  that  suggestion,  and  a  little  smile 
spread  over  his  face. 

**Oh,  aunty,  will  you?     Will  you  do  it  right  this  minute?" 
"This  identical  minute,"  she  replied;  and  added  to  herself,  as  she 
looked  at  the  clock,  "Fll  do  it  if  they  have  to  wait  for  me  two  hours  at 
the  office,  and  scold  me  when  I  get  there." 

In  a  minute  Tim's  tears  were  dry,  and  wath  the  light,  hopeful  heart 
of  childhood,  he  flew  around  for  the  hatchet  and  things,  confident  that 
he  \^ould  now  "have  a  daisy,  'cause  auntie  could  just  make  everything, 
same  as  a  storekeeper." 

Aunty  did  not  feel  quite  so  sure  of  her  :*bility,  but  she  would  have 
undertaken  to  build  a  house  that  morning  to  please  Tim.  While  she 
wrenched  the  rockers  off  an  old  chair  in  her  room,  Tim  lugged  a  box 
from  the  store  room,  and  turned  it  bottom  up,  climbed  upon  it  to  reach 
the  nails  from  the  mantle.  As  he  stood  picking  them  out  of  a  litt'-. 
basket  where  Aunt  Nina  kept  odds  and  ends,  all  of  a  sudden  a  thought 
came  shooting  through  his  head  as  swiftly  as  a  bullet  from  a  pistol.  He 
dropped  the  nails,  his  face  flushed  over,  and  for  a  minute  he  s<^ood  stock 
still,  gazing  down  at  the  old  box  he  was  standing  on.  The  next  momen*^. 
Aunt  Nina  heard  his  familiar  little  squeal  of  delight  and  caught  a 
glimpse  of  him  as  he  bolted  through  the  front  door  and  bounded  up 
the  street,  with  both  arms  wrapped  around  the  old  box,  his  face  glowirig 
with  joy. 

"Tim,  Tim,"  she  called  after  him,  "where  in  the  world  are  you 
going,  in  such  a  hurry?" 

"To  the  candy  kitchen,"  he  called  back,  and  disappeared  around 
the  corner. 

She  waited  fifteen  minutes  for  him,  then  put  on  her  wraps  and 
hurried  to  her  work,  wondering  what  strange  freak  possessed  the  child 
She  could  not  take  time  to  go  after  him  now,  so  she  concluded  sne 
would  hunt  him  up  at  dinner  time. 

Wild  with  excitement,  and  with  every  idea  but  one  for  the  present 
excluded  from  his  little  brain,  Tim  never  stopped  running  until  he 
brought  up  tn  thf  office  door  of  the  candy  kitchen ;  there  he  rapped 
loudly,  and  was  admitted  to  the  presence  of  Mr.  Osburn,  who  sat  writ- 
ing, as  usual,  at  his  desk. 


606  .  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

Puffing  and  blowing,  his  face*  as  red  as  fire  with  exertion  of  carry- 
ing his  heavy  load,  Tim  planted  the  box  down  at  Mr.  Osburn's  feet  and 
stood  up  before  him  trying  to  collect  breath  enough  to  speak. 

Mr.  Osburn  turned  half  way  around  from  his  desk  and  peered  over 
the  top  of  his  glasses  at  the  boy.     "Well,  what  is  it?"  he  inquired. 

"It's — it's  the  sev'al  inches,"  panted  the  boy  eagerly. 

"What  in  the  world  is  that?"  asked  the  man,  his  eyes  wandering 
from  the  boy's  face  to  the  box  and  back  again. 

For  answer  Tim  carefully  stepped  upon  the  box  and  stood  erect, 
setting  his  lips  firmly  together  to  hold  in  check  the  smile  of  triumphant 
joy  that  threatened  to  break  over  his  face  and  spoil  the  dignity  which 
he  felt  must  be  maintained  upon  so  important  an  occasion. 

Not  understanding  that  this  pantomime  was  intended  to  be  an 
answer  to  his  question,  Mr.  Osburn  waited  a  minute  for  the  words  that 
did  not  come,  then,  whirling  quite  around  in  his  chair,  he  pushed  his 
glasses  upon  the  top  of  his  head  and  demanded  sharply : 
Why  don't  you  answer,  boy?  Are  you  foolish?" 
N-n-n-o,  sir,"  stammered  Tim,  a  good  deal  disconcerted  by  the 
question.  "I — I  come — you — you  said  to  come  back  when  I  got  sev'al 
inches  bigger." 

Mr.  Osburn  eyed  him  from  head  to  foot  while  trj^ing  to  place  him 
in  his  memory. 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  said  finally,  "you  are  that  little  Tim  fellow,  are  you? 
Well,  I  don't  see  that  you  are  a  mite  taller  than  you  were  two  weeks 
ago. 

Tim  stepped  off  the  box.  "I  ain't  by  myself,"  he  admitted;  then 
stepping  solemnly  upon  it  again,  he  added,  "But  I  am  sev'al  inches 
bigger  than  myself  now." 

Mr.  Osburn  suddenly  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  thrust  his  hands 
down  in  his  pockets,  and  stretching  his  legs  out  before  him,  sat  looking 
in  the  little  fellow's  earnest  face.  Gradually  a  smile  crept  around  his 
mouth  and  spread  to  his  eyes.  "Well,  I  declare !"  he  presently  chuckled 
to  himself ;  then  he  turned  and  pressed  a  bell-button  at  the  side  of  the 
desk. 

"Andy,"  he  said,  with  a  wink  and  a  smile  at  his  foreman,  who  ap- 
peared in  response  to  the  call,  "I  want  you  to  take  this  young  gentleman 
and  his  pedestil  into  the  candy  room  and  let  them  go  to  work  together." 
Then  turning  to  Tim,  he  added,  with  a  great  show  of  mock  dignit}*. 
"Well,  Mastei  Timothy,  I'll  take  you  back  on  my  force  at  your  old 
salary  plus  a  quarter  a  week  extra,  out  of  the  respect  of  the  sev'al  inches 
extra.     Does  that  suit  you?" 

"Oh,  yes,  sir ;  thanky,  sir !"  cried  happy  Tim  ;  and  skipping  off  with 
the  box,  he  shouldered  it  and  followed  the  smiling  Andy,  his  own  face 
radiant  with  delight. 

Some  hours  later,  when  Aunt  Nina  appeared  at  the  office  door, 
anxiously  inquiring  for  Tim's  whereabouts,  Mr.  Osburn  softly  opened 
the  door  of  the  workroom  and  pointed  the  boy  out  to  her.     He  was 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  607 

standing  proudly  upon  his  perch,  his  shoulders  quite  on  a  level  with  the 
other  boys,  and  was  rapidly  filling  the  candy  boxes  with  his  nimble  little 
fingers,  while  he  joyously  told  the  boys  of  the  "kind  of  a  sled  he  was 
going  to  get,"  and  invited  them,  one  and  all,  to  come  and  ride  with  him 
if  the  snow  held  on  till  Saturday  afternoon. 

"I  g^ve  you  my  word,"  laughed  Mr.  Osborn,  as  he  and  the  young 
lady  talked  over  the  incident  in  his  office,  "I  was  really  concerned  at 
having  to  dismiss  the  little  fellow  when  he  seemed  so  distressed:  but  I 
declare,  madatn,  though  I  always  prided  myself  upon  my  aptness  for 
discovering  ways  and  means  for  every  exigency,  and  racked  my  brain 
for  an  expedient  that  day,  not  once  did  it  occur  to  ine  to  elevate  the  boy 
to  the  table  or  to  lower  the  table  to  the  boy.  I  dismissed  the  child. 
absolutely  convinced  that  the  only  way  he  could  get  to  the  top  of  the 
table  was  to  grow  to  it.  My  ..conceit  has  tumbled  many  notches  this 
morning,  foisthough  I  did  not  know  whether  to  account  Tim's  intellect 
brighter  than  that  of  the  average  boy,  I  have  quite  decided  that  my 
own  is  duller  than  that  of  the  stupidest  donkey  on  record." 

When  Tim  and  Aunt  Nina  got  home  that  evening  they  found 
awaiting  them  a  great,  big  bundle,  addressed  to  Tim,  and  when  the 
wrapping  was  torn  oflf  by  eager  hands,  there  stooil  revealed  to  Tim's  de- 
lighted, astonished  gaze  the  bluest  sled  with  the  reddest  streaks  to  be 
found  in  the  city.  There  was  a  card  tied  to  one  of  the  swans'  heads 
bearing  Mr.  Osburn's  name  on  one  side,  and  upon  the  other  side  was 
written  in  Mr.  Osburn's  own  hand: 

"To  little  Tim :    For  teaching  an  old  dog  a  new  trick." 


^ 


Mrs.  Beetle:    "My!  What  a  dusl  we  make!  We  must  be  just  ivhi^zUi t; !' 


(m  J  HE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

NICODEMUS. 

BY  HARRIET  T.  COMSTOCK. 

Little  Humility  Merton  sat  by  the  roadside  in  the  soft  November 
sunshine.  Humility-  was  running  away.  She  had  started  from  home 
oh !  so  early,  and  now  it  seemed  oh !  so  late,  and  she  was  tired  and 
hungry,  but  there  was  no  turning  back  for  that  little  Puritan  maid  until 
she  had  donp  what  she  had  set  out  to  do. 

She  sighed  gently,  wiped  a  little  tear  from  her  pretty  cheek  and 
then  started  up  from  the  leaf-littered  roadside  where  she  sat.  **I  must 
hurry!'*-  HumiHty  said  to  herself;  "it  may  be  too  late.  Oh!  poor 
Nicodemus !"  Then  two  tears  rolled  down  the  round  cheeks,  and  Hu- 
mility forgot  to  wipe  those  away.  "Now  which  road  shall  I  take?" 
she  faltered,  eyeing  the  diverging  ways ;  "oh !  if  some  one  would  only 
chance  by." 

And,  as  if  in  answer  to  the  little  maid's  wish,  a  horseman  came  in 
sight,  and  she  waited  by  the  roadside  until  he  drew  nearer. 

The  man  on  the  big  black  horse  was  deep  in  thought ;  he  did  not 
even  glance  at  the  prim  little  figure  on  the  path ;  so  Humility  cried  tim- 
idly :    "Sir,  can  you  kindly  tell  me  the  way  to  the  governor's  house?" 

The  traveler  drew  rein  and  looked  down. 

"The  governor?"  he  asked.  "And  what  do  you  want  with  the 
governor  ?" 

"I  want  to  tell  him  about  Nicodemus,  sir,  and  I  am  in  a  piteous 
hurry.  Since  daylight  I  have  been  traveling,  and — I  cannot  tell  the 
way]"  The  soft  lips  quivered  and  the  childish  upturned  face  was  full 
of  anxiety. 

"I  am  bound  for  the  governor's  house,  little  maid,"  said  the  man; 
"come.  I  will  put  you  before  me  on  the  horse.  Perhaps  you  will  tell 
me  about  this  Nicodemus  as  we  travel." 

Once  upon  the  strong  horse  little  Humility  felt  her  courage  retuni- 
ing,  and  it  was  the  simplest  matter  in  the  w^orld  to  tell  the  kind  stranger 
all  about  Nicodemus  and  her  errand. 

"I  never  had  anything  of  my  very  own,  sir,"  said  the  little  girl, 
"until  Nicodemus  came.  I  was  in  the  woods  one  day,  and  feeling  lonely 
T  dropped  down  and  prayed  God  to  give  me  a  cheerful  heart.  Just  then 
T  heard  a  noise  and  right  at  my  feet  fell  a  wild  turkey!  His  wing  was 
broken  and  my  father  has  said  that  it  was  an  Indian's  arrow  that 
brought  him  low ;  but  what  matters  how  he  came,  sir,  if  God  sent  him?" 

"What  matter  indeed?"  smiled  the  stranger,  and  he  put  an  arm 
closer  about  Humility.     "And  you  named  him  Nicodemus?"  he  added. 

"Yes,"  said  little  Humility,  pushing  her  soft  straying  brown  hair 
more  securelv  under  her  close  white  cap;  "for  hurt  as  he  was,  the  poor 
bird  got  up  into  a  tree  so  afraid  was  he  of  me.  You  know,  sir,  the 
rhyme : 

*  Nicodemus  he 
Did  climb  a  tree !' " 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  609 

"Ah !"  murmured  the  man,  "I  understand." 

"And,  sir,"  the  little  maid  went  on,  "I  fed  him  and  brought  water 
to  him,  and  he  grew  to  love  and  trust  me,  and  when  the  wing  was 
healed,  Nicodemus  had  lost  all  fear,  and  ate  from  my  hand  and  followed 
when  I  called.  I  was  never  lonely  any  more.  Tis  sad  to  be  lonely, 
sir — were  you  ever  lonely?" 

The  man  thought  of  a  little  boy  away  in  England,  and  he  said, 
"Aye,  my  child." 

Then  Humility  went  on  again.  "The  governor  has  set  a  Day  of 
Thanksgiving — have  you  heard?" 

"That  I  have !" 

"And  he  sent  out  four  men  to  shoot  turkeys  and  fetch  them  to  him, 
and  there  is  to  be  a  great  feast.  Nicodemus  and  I  were  in  the  meadow 
when  the  four  came  our  way,  and  seeing  how  fat  and  fine  Nicodemus 
was  they" — here  the  pretty  face  buried  itself  on  the  man's  breast. 

"They  shot  Nicodemus?"  asked  he,  and  there  was  deep  pity  in  his 
voice. 

"Ah !  no,"  sobbed  Humility ;  "they  said  he  was  too  good  for  that. 
They — they  popped  him  in  a  bag,  sir !  They  are  going  to  take  him  alive 
to  the  governor,  and  the  governor  is  to  say  what  to  do  with  Nico- 
demus." 

"Ah !"  A  slow  smile  spread  over  the  man's  face. 

"And,  sir,  I  am  going  to  his  house  to  tell  the  governor  all  about  it, 
and  when  he  hears  that  Nicodemus  was  all  that  I  had  in  the  world  of 
my  own.  I  think  he  will  be  kind,  and  give  Nicodemus  back  to  me. 
What  think  you?" 

"I  think  he  will !"  said  the  stranger ;  "but  suppose — he  does  not  ?" 
Then  the  little  Puritan  child's  eyes  flashed  as  she  whispered  him, 

"Then  I  think  T  will  sail  back  to  England,  and  tell  the  king !" 

"With  such  a  fate  in  store,"  laughed  the  man,  "I  am  confident 

the  governor  will  set  Nicodemus  free." 

Then  as  the  big  horse  galloped  on,  a  tifed  little  head  sank  closer 
and  closer  to  the  strong  man's  breast,  and  soon  Humility  slept. 

Presently  the  rider  turned  the  horse,  and  all  in  the  glow  and  haze 
of  the  autumn  day  rode  rapidly  back  over  the  road  weary  little  Hu- 
mility had  traveled.  She,  poor  little  child  had  thought  it  a  great  dis- 
tance ;  she  had  forgotten  how  many  times  she  had  rested,  and  stopped 
to  hunt  nuts.  And  at  last  the  horse  came  to  a  pause  in  front  of  a  small 
cabin.  The  door  was  open  and  the  room  witl|in  quite  empty.  The  man 
dismounted  and  carrying  Humility  very  carefully,  he  laid  her  upon  the 
bed  in  the  far  corner  of  the  room.  Then,  seeing  no  person,  he  re- 
mounted and  galloped  away. 

You  may  guess  that  Humility's  father  and  mother  were  out  search- 
ing for  her,  and  that  was  exactly  what  they  were  doing.  A  fear  of 
Indians  was  in  their  hearts,  and  they  were  very  sad :  but  when  they  re- 
turned and  saw  their  little  girl  lying  safe  and  fast  asleep  upon  the 


iilO  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

big  bed,  they  felt  that  the  Day  of  Thanksgiving  appointed  would  be 
the  happiest  festival  they  had  ever  known. 

On  the  morrow  alt  the  people  came  to  the  great  feast,  and  all  were 
happy  and  thankful  except  silent  Humility  Merton.  She  felt  that  by 
falling  asleep  she  had  been  false  to  Nicodemus,  and  would  never  see 
him  again.  Can  you  imagine,  then,  the  child's  joy,  when  the  good 
cheer  was  at  its  height,  to  see  a  man  drawing  near  with  Nicodemus 
in  his  arms? 

The  young  wild  turkey  sat  with  the  man  as  gentle  as  a  dove.  His 
experience  had  tamed  him. 

"Where  is  Humility  Merton?"  called  the  man  as  he  drew  near, 
and  all  trembling  and  pale  little  Humility  stepped  forth  from  her 
mother's  side. 


■"Tis  the  governor's  wish,"  said  the  man,  "that  there  should  be 
no  sad  or  lonely  child  today,  and  he  gives  Nicodemus  back  to  his  mis- 
tress." 

Humility  stretched  out  her  arms  and  took  the  big  bird  to  her 
heart.  Nicodemus  flapped  his  one  wing  in  rapture,  and  then  Humility 
looked  up  and  said  timidly  to  the  man.  "Tell  the  governor  this  is  truly  a 
Day  of  Thangsiving  for  my  poor  Nicodemus  and  me!" 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  61 1 


A  REAL  STORY. 

BY  ISABEL  GRANT. 

Once  upon  a  time.  Jean  Ingelow  tells  us,  there  lived  on  the  border 
of  a  great  American  forest  a  little  boy  who  loved  pictures  more  than 
play  or  eating.    That  .was  a  very  odd  kind  of  a  boy,  wasn't  it? 

The  father  and  mother  of  this  little  fellow  had  come  from  Eng- 
land, to  make  a  new  home  in  this  free  land  across  the  ocean.  But  the 
father  died,  and  now  the  widow  and  her  boy  were  poor.  The  only 
things  of  value  in  their  house  were  a  few  pictures,  saved  for  the  sake 
of  the  old  days. 

The  boy  would  spend  most  of  his  holiday  time  trying  to  copy  these 
pictures.  But  he  had  very  little  patience,  and  was  apt  to  throw  away 
much  of  his  work,  for  he  could  not  draw  well  enough  to  suit  him.  He 
used  to  say  sometimes,  "I  wish  some  fairy  would  finish  this  picture 
for  me.  You  know  there  used  to  be  good  fairie's  that  did  such  things, 
mother,  long  ago." 

One  day  our  little  boy  found  a  most  beautiful  place  in  that  old 
forest.  Tall,  dark  pines  towered  towards  the  sky ;  between  the  trunks 
the  sun  shone  red  and  glorious;  overhead  were  glimpses  of  blue  sky 
with  soft  white  clouds  sailing  over  waves  of  rose  and  blue. 

On  the  water  floated  beautiful  white  and  golden  lilies;  and  the 
sky,  the  clouds  and  the  trees  were  all  mirrored  down  there,  among  the 
leaves  and  lilies.    What  a  beautiful  picture  it  made ! 

"I  know  there  are  no  trees  in  the  world  as  beautiful  as  these  pines, 
no  clouds  so  lovely,  and  no  water  so  beautiful ;  and  if  I  could  only  paint 
this,  everybody  else  could  know  it,  too,"  sighed  the  boy. 

He  gathered  a  pond  lily,  and  sat  down  to  draw  it.     For  he  al- 
ways carried  his  little  sketch  book  with  him.     But  he  soon  gave  it  up. 
"Xo  use!"  he  sighed.  "You're  too  beautiful.    I  can't  do  you.    Oh! 
if  I  were  only  a  painter!" 

Lo!  suddenly  the  lily  quivered  in  his  hand,  the  stamens  floated  up- 
ward, shining  like  a  golden  crown,  the  drops  of  water  on  them  turning 
into  diamonds  as  he  watched.  The  white  petals  turned  into  a  royal 
robe,  the  tall  pistil  into  a  golden  wand,  and  there  stood  a  little  fairy 
in  a  robe  of  pure  white. 

She  had  heard  the  boy  sighing,  and  now  she  smiles  on  the  un- 
happv  litle  fellow. 

"Suppose  I  help  you  to  be  a  painter,"  she  said.  And,  oh,  how  de- 
lighted the  boy  was  at  her  words. 

"I  know  of  a  very  powerful  charm,"  she  went  on,  "but  it  needs  care 
and  patience  in  the  working,  and  I  cannot  give  it  to  you  unless  you 
promise  to  obey  me.' 

"Oh,  I  will  with  all  my  heart!"  cried  the  boy. 


61 2  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

"Then  carry  this  little  key  to  the  nearest  pine  tree,  strike  the 
trunk  with  it,  and  a  magic  door  will  open.  Put  your  hand  in,  and  you 
will  draw  out  a  wonderful  palette. 

Paint  with  colors  from  this  palette  every  day,  and  if  you  do  not 
break  the  spell,  in  a  few  years  you  will  paint  wonderful,  beautiful  pic- 
tures and  be  famous  all  over  the  world." 

The  fairy  vanished,  but  the  boy  held  the  palette. 

And  day  after  day  he  worked  with  the  magic  palette,  every  leisure 
moment  he  had.  Best  of  all  he  loved  that  piece  of  water  in  the  forest. 
And  there  he  spent  all  his  holidays.  He  painted  it  in  the  sunshine  at 
noon,' at  sunset  with  rosy  clouds  mirrored  in  the  gold  and  blue;  by 
moon-light,  with  stars  shining  in  it. 

As  the  years  went  by  he  grew  famous  as  a  painter.  And  one  day 
he  was  in  a  great  city,  in  an  art  gallery.  Many  of  his  pictures  were 
there.  And  the  one  that  everyone  admired  most  was  one  of  a  child  with 
water  lilies  in  his  hand. 

As  the  artist  was  thinking  of  the  time  when  he  painted  it,  sud- 
denly the  fairy  stood  again  at  his  side. 

He  was  delighted  to  see  her  again. 

"Oh,  wonderful  Fairy!"  he  cried.  "You  disappeared  before  I 
could  thank  you  for  your  gift.  You  have  gold  and  all  you  can  wish 
for.  so  I  can  give  you  nothing  of  value.  I  can  only  thank  you  with  all 
my  heart.  But  tell  me.  pray,  your  name  and  I  will  cut  it  on  a  ring 
and  wear  it  as  long  as  I  live." 

"Mv  name,"  smiled  the  fairy,  as  again  she  vanished,  "is  perse- 
verance." 


A  BOY  WHO  USED  HIS  BRAINS. 

"I  was  much  amused  the  other  day,"  said  the  hardware  dealer, 
"at  a  small  boy  who  came  around  for  a  job.  One  of  the  clerks  had 
dropped  a  lot  of  sharp-pointed  tacks  into  a  drawer  of  brass  screws, 
and  had  given  up  the  idea  of  taking  them  out.  When  the  youngster 
turned  up,  we  thought  we  would  try  him  by  letting  him  sort  the  two 
articles. 

He  went  at  it  the  same  way  the  clerk  had  begun — picking  out  the 
tacks  with  his  fingers  and  getting  the  point  of  about  every  third  tack 
in  the  ball  of  his  thumb.  He  had  enough  in  about  a  minute,  and  he 
straightened  up.  We  all  began  to  smile,  expecting  him  to  give  up  the 
job.  Instead  of  that,  he  went  over  to  the  show-case  and  picked  out  a 
horseshoe  magnet.  Then  he  came  back  to  the  box.  In  thirty  seconds 
he  had  the  tacks  out,  and  the  screws  were  still  in  the  compartment. 
?Ie  knew  that  the  magnet  would  attack  iron  and  not  the  brass,  and  in 
a  jiffv  he  had  accomplished  what  we  had  been  trying  to  do  all  morning. 

We  didn't  really  need  a  boy;  but  this  little  fellow's  smartness 
appealed  to  us,  and  we  engaged  him  at  once." — Selected. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  613 

HOW  DAVID  CARRIED  THE  SUPPLIES.    " 

BY  KATE  W.  HAMILTON. 

Ruth,  at  the  kitchen  table,  was  rolling  up  in  a  bit  of  newspaper  the 
little  parcel  of  luncheon  she  had  prepared.  The  light  of  the  lamp  by 
which  she  worked  was  shaded,  so  that  it  should  not  shine  through  the 
open  door  into  the  room  where  the  invalid  lay.  David,  in  his  shabby 
overcoat,  stood  by  the  stove  as  if  trying  to  lay  in  a  store  of  warmth 
for  this  journey.  Ruth  glanced  at  him  with  a  look  of  anxiety  in  her 
eyes  that  should  have  been  care  free  and  girlish :  she  lowered  her  voice 
cautiously  as  she  spoke : — 

"You'll  be  back  to-morrow?" 

"Tomorrow  afternoon  if  I  don't  get  it.  If  I  do  and  they  want  me 
right  away,  why  Fll  stay,  you  know." 

"Yes :  I  hope  you'll  stay." 

It  was  a  hard  thing  to  hope  for.  Only  Ruth  knew  how  much  she 
would  miss  him,  but  there  were  harder  things  than  loneliness  and  extra 
work  now  that  the  danger  point  for  the  sick  mother  had  been  passed. 
Some  one  must  provide  for  the  little  household,  for  its  needs  were 
many  and  growing  pressing.  David  slipped  into  his  pocket  the  packet 
Ruth  handed  him. 

"I  wish  you  needn't  start  away  on  such  a  long  walk  at  night,"  she 
sain. 

"It's  the  only  wav  to  be  there  early  in  the  morning,"  he  answered, 
buttoning  his  coat.  He  stepped  to  the  bedroom  door  and  listened  for 
a  minute  to  the  breathing  of  the  sleeper,  then  turned  awav.  "Good-by." 
he  said,  kissing  his  sister  in  a  half-embarrassed  way,  as  if  not  quite  sure 
that  the  occasion  was  great  enough  to  warrant  such  unusual  demonstra- 
tions.    "Don't  worry:  it's  only  twelve  miles." 

Ruth  softly  but  hastilv  closed  the  door  behind  him  to  shut  out  all 
danger  of  draughts  reaching  the  inner  room,  but  she  pressed  her  face 
clo«5e  against  the  window%  and  watched  as  if  her  heart  were  going 
n'ith  the  moving  figure  down  the  lonely,  snowy  road. 

Rut  the  figure  in  the  shabbv  coat  was  only  one  among  a  dozen  or 
more,  and  not  a  particularly  noticeable  one  at  that,  when  Hogarth  and 
riavVs  n^ce  opened  the  next  morning.  The  firm  had  advertised  for  a 
*'stout  bov  of  sixteen  or  eighteen"  to  take  supplies  out  to  the  mining 
rimn.  pnd  the  response  was  this  assortment  over  which  Hogarth,  never 
noted  for  his  serenity,  fairly  fumed. 

"Why  couldn't  old  Kassan  have  stayed?  He  was  as  reliable  as  an 
old  rlork.  nnd  about  as  solid  of  face  and  mechanical  of  movement, 
b'-t  he  knew  enough  to  take  supplies  regularly  and  safelv  out  to  the 
^amn,  if  he  didn't  know  much  else.  Whv  must  he  take  it  into  his  stupid 
head  to  eo  back  to  Germanv  ^^  his  age?" 

"If  you  wanted  an  old  Dutchman  instead  of  a  youngster  of  any 


614  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

other  nationality,  that's  what  you  should  have  advertised  for,"  said 
Clay,  turning  from  his  desk  to  survey  the  applicants  round  the  rusty 
stove  in  the  outer  office.  **I  don't  see  why  a  boy  can't  learn  to  do  it 
just  as  well,  though?' 

"Some  boys,  but  as  for  that  lot" — Hogarth  broke  off  his  sentence 
suddenly  and  walked  out  to  interrogate  the  seekers  for  the  place. 

David,  listening  to  the  quick,  sharp  questions  that  cut  short  any 
attempt  at  prolonged  explanation,  had  no  doubt  that  night  would  see 
him  at  home  again.  Still  he  kept  his  position  at  the  stove  and  awaited 
his  turn. 

**Well,  young  man,"  the  manager  turned  upon  him,  abniptly,  *'what 
have  you  to  say  for  yourself?" 

"I'd  like  the  place,"  said  David,  simply. 

"Indeed?  I  think  I  could  have  guessed  as  much  as  that.  What 
I'm  wanting  to  know  is  what  reason  you  have  for  thinking  you  can 
fill  it.    Where  have  you  worked?    What  is  your  name?" 

"David  Meath.    I've  only  worked  at  home — lately." 

David  felt  that  the  latter  statement  would  hurt  rather  than  help 
his  cause,  since  this  man  of  few  words,  or  rather  of  impatience  with 
the  words,  gave  no  opportunity  for  explanation. 

"Where  is  your  home?" 

"In  the  country — twelve  miles  out.  I  walked  in  last  night."  The 
reply  came  jerkily,  each  section  added  because  the  manager's  eye  stfll 
rested  on  him  as  if  his  answer  were  incomplete. 

"Humph!  You  must  be  a  young  man  of  considerable  faith — or 
spare  time." 

"I  wanted  work,"  said  David  again,  but  Mr.  Hogarth  had  turned 
from  him  to  the  next  in  line. . 

There  seemed  no  hope  of  a  hearing,  still  less  of  employment ;  one 
might  as  well  go.  Still  the  warm  room  was  comfortable,  and  there 
would  be  time  enough  for  the  homeward  walk  later,  so  the  boy  lingered, 
holding  out  to  the  stove  red  and  roughened  hands  that  would  have  told 
their  own  story  of  toil  and  exposure  had  there  been  any  one  to  heed  it. 
One  by  one  the  others  departed,  and  David  was  about  to  follow  them 
when  the  manager's  voice  stopped  him. 

"If  I  let  you  try  this  thing  when  can  you  be  readv  for  work?" 

"Now." 

"Well,  that's  in  your  favor,  anyway.  Mind,  I  don't  say  111 
engage  you  regularly,  but  it's  a  sort  of  Hobson's  choice  this  mom^ 
ing:  I've  got  to  get  some  orders  and  a  few  supplies  out  to  the  camp 
some  way.  It's  twenty-five  miles  out — road  running  northeast  from  the 
little  schoolhouse  there's  onlv  one,  so  you  can't  miss  it.  In  the  stable 
back  of  this  building  you'll  find  a  stout  box  sled  and  the  horse.  Hitch 
up  and  come  around  to  the  door,  and  your  load'll  be  ready.  You  can't 
make  the  trip  both  ways  in  a  day ;  you'll  have  to  stay  at  the  camp  over 
night.     That's  all." 

"I'm  to  drive  out?"  asked  the  boy. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  615 

''Oh,  swim  or  fly  if  it  suits  you  any  better/'  snapped  the  irate 
manager.  **I  don't  care  what  you  do  so  long  as  you  get  the  things 
out  there.    Get  them  there,  that's  all." 

Clay,  in  the  back  office,  laughed  as  David  disappeared. 

'*I  wouldn't  have  taken  his  head  off  if  it  hadn't  been  for  this 
abominable  boil,"  explained  Hogarth,  half  apologetically,  as  he  nursed 
his  bandaged  arm.  "J"st  as  he  asked  that  foolish  question  I  hit  the 
wretched  thing  against  the  edge  of  the  table,  and  it  about  murdered 
me.    It  was  one  straw  too  much  after  that  set  of  young  incapables." 

**It  strikes  me  that  you  didn't  g^ve  them  much  chance  to  show 
whether  they  were  capable  or  not,  and  at  last  you  chose  the  least  pre- 
possessing one  of  the  lot.    What  did  you  do  that  for?" 

"I  don't  know.  Something  in  his  eyes,  maybe — a  sort  of  steady, 
honest  look — and  he  wanted  work.  I  don't  imagine  he's  anything  but 
a  make-shift,  though.  He'll  do  for  a  few  days,  perhaps,  while  we  look 
round.  The  whole  set  are  after  light  work  and  heavy  wages,  with  no 
reliability  or  responsibility  among  them.  If  I  ever  get  back  to  civiliza- 
tion and  leisure  again.  I'll  write  an  essay  on  the  degeneracy  of  the  mod- 
ern boy." 

"He'll  improve  when  you've  had  that  boil  lanced,"  laughed  Clay 
again,  in  his  provoking  fashion. 

David,  meanwhile,  had  found  horse  and  sled,  and  was  soon  at  the 
door.  As  nearly  wordless  as  possible,  he  stowed  away  packages, 
accepted  orders,  and  started  on  his  way.  Once  outside  the  business 
portion  of  the  small  town  he  drew  rein  for  a  moment  and  looked  long- 
ingly in  the  direction  of  home.     He  wished  Ruth  knew. 

"But  she'll  be  sure  I've  found  something  to  do  if  I  don't  get  hoqie," 
he  assured  himself.  I  wish  it  was  more  of  a  find — something  'twould 
last.  He  didn't  give  a  fellow  time  to  tell  him  anything  or  ask  him  any- 
thing, and  I  reckon  the  only  reason  he  sent  me  out  with  his  load  was  be- 
cause I  hung  around  till  the  last  one.  Whew,  but  he's  a  cyclone !"  The 
homely,  honest  face  broadened  a  little  at  the  recollection.  "Anyhow, 
if  I  couldn't  get  a  chance  to  say  anything.  I  got  a  chance  to  do  some- 
thing, and  ril  show  him  I  can  do  it,  too." 

That,  after  all,  was  the  main  thing,  and  the  prospect  looked 
brighter  as  David  considered  it.  The  luncheon  Ruth  had  given  him 
had  served  for  his  breakfast  in  the  early  morning,  and  he  had  eaten 
nothing  since.  He  drew  off  his  warm  mitten  and  searched  his  pocket 
for  the  solitary  nickel  he  knew  it  held. 

"It'll  buy  a  heap  of  crackers,"  he  remarked,  cheerfully,  as  he  drew 
up  before  a  small  grocery.     "They'll  last  till  I  get  there,  I  reckon." 

Away  beyond  the  last  of  the  wooden  buildings  and  out  upon  the 
white  plain  he  passed,  his  journey  fairly  begun.  He  drew  his  cap  down 
over  his  ears,  and  settled  himself  for  his  long  ride.  It  was  not  intensely 
cold,  only  a  clear  winter  day,  and  the  road  wound  away  before  him  in 
tempting  fashion,  rising  and  falling  as  it  reached  the  outlying  hills. 
The  pure  air  stirred  his  blood,  and  he  w'as  boyish  enough  to  feel  a 


616  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

* 

thrill  of  pleasure  in  his  new  position  and  in  the  prospect  of  a  ni^jht  at 
the  camp.  The  change  from  anxious  watching  by  a  sick  bed,  and  the 
relief  of  being  free  and  able  to  do  something  onc^'more,  brought  a  sense 
of  exhilaration. 

'*It's  a  good  job,  if  I  can  only  keep  it.     I  must  keep  it !"  he  decided. 

The  pay  would  mean  so  many  comforts  for'^the  mother  and  Ruth. 
They  could  get  some  little  place  near  town,  where  he  could  be  at  home 
on  alternate  nights.  He  began  to  plan  what  could  be  done.  \'er\' 
humble  daydreams  they  might  have  seemed  to  another,  but  they  were 
wondrously  bright  to  David.  The  crackers  and  the  dreams  sustained 
him  as  the  hours  passed,  and  there  was  little  to  draw  from  his  thougiits. 
for  the  horse  journeyed  steadily  forward  as  one  familiar  with  the  route. 

He  had  reached  more  level  ground  again,  a  high,  wind-swept 
plateau  where  winter  made  its  cold  breath  felt.  The  boy  judged  by 
the  sun  and  the  general  aspect  of  the  country  that  he  must  be  nearing 
his  destination.  Then,  just  as  he  began  to  congratulate  himself,  came 
the  first  mishap  of  the  trip.  The  horse  stopped  abruptly  where  a  bridge 
had  crossed  a  narrow  ravine ;  the  bridge  was  down  and  nothing  but  a 
few  broken  timbers  marked  its  location.  David  sprang  from  his  sled 
and  stared  into  the  cavity.  Only  a  chasm  of  twenty  feet  in  width,  but 
it  barred  his  way  as  if  it  had  been  two  hundred. 

"What  on  earth  will  I  do  now  ?"  he  said.  There  was  no  one  to 
answer  the  question,  and  the  boy's  face  paled  as  the  realization  that  his 
long  journey  had  been  useless  slowly  forced  itself  upon  him.  The 
plateau  was  botmded  on  the  side  next  the  road  by  a  long,  deep  ravine 
which  the  narrower  chasm  intersected,  while  less  than  half  a  mile 
beyond  the  bridge  the  road  l>egan  to  slope  and  by  a  winding  descent 
reached  the  mining  camp.  David  soberly  viewed  the  situation,  all 
his  golden  dreams  as  completely  wrecked  as  the  useless  bridge  with  its 
swaying  timbers.     A  wave  of  bitterness  rushed  over  him. 

"Ruth  is  always  saving  to  do  our  best  and  trust  God,  and  things 
will  be  sure  to  come  out  alright."  he  muttered.  "But  they  don't.  I've 
done  my  very  best  trving  to  eet  this  place,  and  show  I  was  fit  to  keep  it, 
and  now  it's  worse  than  if  Fd  never  started.  It  meant  so  much  to  us, 
too." 

To  go  back  meanf  entire  failure.  He  could  well  imagine  what  it 
would  be  to  appear  before  the  manager  that  night  with  a  fagged  out 
horse,  supplies  undelivered,  and  a  storv  of  defeat.  Mr.  Hogarth  would 
never  stop  to  consider  what  was  reasonable  or  possible :  he  would  not 
listen  to  explanations,  and  there  would  be  no  chance  to  trv  again.  It 
^vps  hard.  All  his  brief  life  had  been  hard  for  David,  and  he  was  not 
fiven  to  tears  or  whining,  but  out  there  on  the  stormy  road,  all  alone, 
the  homelv  face  quivered  with  strange  lines,  and  hid  itself  for  a 
moment  ap"ainst  the  neck  of  the  horse.  Perhaps,  despite  his  first  out- 
^Mirst  of  bitterness,  he  soue^ht  Ruth's  Helper  in  that  moment,  for  when 
he  raised  his  head  again  the  trace  of  weakness  was  gone. 

Except  as  a  route  to  the  mines,  the  road  w-as  little  used,  so  that 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  617 

there  was  slight  probability  of  anyone  coming  to  his  aid,  if  indeed,  any- 
one could  have  aided.  He  looked  thoughtfully  down  into  the  wide 
ravine  that  ran  parallel  with  the  road, 

"If  we  were  only  down  there  I  believe  I  could  drive  round  the  spur 
and  get  to  the  camp  some  way,"  he  thought. 

But  driving  down  was  an  impossibility.  The  boy  walked  along  the 
bank,  thoughtfully  surveying  the  descent  from  various  points,  with  a 
look  of  determination  growing  on  his  face.  Then  he  went  back,  un- 
hitched and  blanketed  the  horse  and  fastened  him  to  a  tree,  took  out  a 
coil  of  rope  that  he  had  noticed  among  his  supplies,  and  by  its  aid 
bound  an  oil  cloth  blanket  over  the  articles  that  formed  his  load,  fasten- 
ing all  firmly  to  the  box.  He  drew  the  sleigh  to  the  edge  of  the  ravine 
where  the  descent  looked  smoothest  and  least  obstructed,  and,  removing 
the  shafts,  secured  th^rx  also  with  the  rope. 

"I  can't  go  back,'^  l^e  said,  grimly,  as  if  that  thought  had  come  once 
more.  "He  said  I  was.  to  get  the  things  there  if  I  was  to  swim  or  fly. 
I  reckon  it'll  be  a  case  of  flying." 

It  was  more  nearly  that  than  he  had  imagined,  for  he  had 
by  no  means  estimated  aright  either  its  distance  or  its  roughness.  It 
was  difficult  to  start  so  clumsy  a  coaster,  but  once  started  no  power  of 
the  boy's  could  either  guide  or  stop  it.  He  could  but  cling  to  it, 
scarcely  able  to  breathe  while  it  sped  forward,  bounding  over  hummocks 
and  shooting  down  inclines,  seeming  every  instant  as  if  it  must  over- 
turn or  fly  oflF  into  space,  yet  still  in  some  mad  fashion  holding  to  the 
ground,  until  at  last  it  reached  the  bottom,  and  plowing  into  the  snow, 
stopped  with  a  suddenness  that  dislodged  its  rider  and  flung  him 
yards  away. 

"No  bones  broken,"  muttered  David,  gratefully,  as  he  scrambled  to 
his  feet,  half  stunned  and  feeling  strangely  shaken  up  and  somewhat 
bruised.  '-^No  sled  broken,  either,"  he  added,  congratulating  himself 
afresh  as  he  examined  his  load. 

The  shafts  were  replaced,  and  he  slowly  started  forward  on  his 
course,  drawing  the  sled  as  best  he  could.  Fortunately  a  shallow 
stream  ran  at  the  bottom  of  the  ravine  and  its  frozen  surface  made  a 
smooth  and  tolerably  easy  track  for  him  to  follow.  It  was  well  that  it 
was  so,  for 'he  became  increasingly  conscious  of  various  bruises  and  a 
troublesome  ankle  as  he  walked. 

,A  weary  and  pale-faced  boy,  limping  painfully,  reached  the  camp 
at  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  but  nothing  could  have  exceeded  the 
kindness  of  the  rough,  warm-hearted  men  when  they  heard  his  story. 
The  praises  they  bestowed  upon  his  "pluck"  were  even  more  soothing 
than  the  lotions  they  bound  with  awkward  tenderness  about  the  swollen 
ankle. 

"Don't  you  fret  about  not  being  able  to  go  back  for  the  horse. 
Jim  here'll  find  a  way  up  and  drive  him  back  to  town  tonight,"  said  the 
foreman.  We'll  have  a  shift  of  men  up  the  first  thing  in  the  morning 
to  work  at  the  bridge.     'Tain't  big,  but  it's  mighty  important." 


618  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

David  will  never  forget  that  night  at  the  camp.  Despite  his  aching 
foot  and  some  anxious  thoughts,  it  was  a  bright  spot  in  his  life,  and  he 
wished  his  mother  and  Ruth  could  know.  Three  days  later  the  man- 
ager walked  into  the  camp.  David  had  not  thought  Mr.  Hogarth 
could  look  so  amiable :  still  there  was  a  little  apprehension  in  his  voice 
as  he  said : 

"I  got  'em  here ;  it  was  the  best  I  could  do,  and  you  said  you  did'nt 
care  how,  if  only  I  got  here." 

The  manager's  eyes  rested  on  the  bandaged  foot,  and  his  ham! 
dropped  on  the  boy's  shoulder.  One  could  almost  have  fancied  that 
there  was  a  little  tremor  in  the  voice  if  it  had  not  been  Mr.  Hogarth's. 

"People  say  more  than  they  mean  sometimes,  youngster.  I  didn't 
want  you  to  risk  your  neck.  Still  you  didn't  understand  what  risk  yoii 
were  running,  so  I  will  not  blame  you,  and  I  like  a  man  or  a  boy  who 
thinks  a  contract  undertaken  is  a  contract  to  be  carried  out.  You 
needn't  fret  about  being  laid  up  a  few  days,  Jim  and  Tom  will  manage 
until  you  get  around  again  ;  the  place  is  yours.  Any  word  you  want  to 
send  to  your  friends?" 

And  so  the  good  news  went  to  Ruth. 


ONLY  FOOLING. 

Mother  darling,  when  I  said  today 
I  should  watch  my  chance  and  run  away. 
Find  a  ship  and  go  to  sea,  you  know 
I  was  only  fooling.     I  won't  go. 

Then,  I  said  you  coiddn't  ever  guess 
The  dreadful  things  I  do  but  don't  confess : 
But  I  don't  do  any,  mother  dear. 
I  was  only  fooling.     Do  you  hear  ? 

What  is  it?     You  don't  like  make-believe, 
Make-believe  that  realty  does  deceive? 
For  you  can't  be  sure  when  I  speak  true? 
Think,  perhaps  I'm  only  fooling;  you? 

Mother  dear,  I  was  a  naughty  lad — 
Let  me  kiss  you.     There,  don't  look  so  sad. 
I  won't  say  such  things,  or  if  I  do 
I'll  smile  to  show  I'm  only  fooling  you. 

Laura  G.  Thompson. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  619 


THE  FEAST  TIME  OF  THE  YEAR. 

This  is  the  feast-time  of  the  year, 

When  plenty  pours  her  wine  of  cheer, 

And  even  humble  boards  may  spare 

To  poorer  poor  a  kindly  share. 

While  bursting  barns  and  granaries  know 

A  richer,  fuller  overflow, 

And  they  who  dwell^in  golden  ease 

Bless  without  toil,  yet  toil  to  please. 

This  is  the  feast-time  of  the  year, 

The  blessed  advent  draweth  near ; 

Let  rich  and  poor  together  break 

The  bread  of  love  for  Christ's  sweet  sake, 

Again  the  time  when  rich  and  poor 

Must  ope  for  Him  a  common  door 

Who  comes  a  guest,  yet  makes  a  feast, 

And  bids  the  greatest  and  the  least. 

Selected. 

THE  TREE  THAT  PREACHED. 

BY  MRS.  J.   H.   WALWORTH. 

You  can  see  it  for  yourself  at  any  time  if  you  happen  to  be  in  the 
city  of  New^  York.  The  tree,  I  mean,  by  walking  along  the  wall  that 
bounds  Central  Park  on  the  south,  until  you  come  to  it,  standing 
straight,  firm,  and  resolute  between  the  sundered  sections  of  a  great 
rock.  A  tree  of  iron  wood,  perhaps,  if  one  may  judge  from  its  smooth 
black  bark  and  its  tremendous  powers  of  resistance. 

If  you  are  inquisitive  enough  to  stop  and  give  it  an  examination 
you  will  find  that  it  has  forced  its  way  upward  toward  the  light  of  the 
sun,  with  all  its  life-giving  properties,  into  the  genial  upper  air  from 
the  cold,  hard  heart  of  a  huge  bowlder.  When  that  tree — for  tree  it  is 
now — started  to  reach  the  sunlight  and  the  warmth  of  the  upper  world, 
something  hcul  to  give  way,  and  as  its  own  aspirations  were  all  fixed 
and  strong,  it  was  the  stone,  hard,  cold,  resistant,  which  had  to  give 
way. 

But  the  sermon  preached  by  a  prosy  writer  with  pen  in  hand  is  a 
poor  substitute  for  the  sermon  that  tree  preached  to  Hank  Manning  on 
a  wintry  day  some  years  ago. 

Like  a  good  many  other  boys  of  fifteen  years  of  age.  Hank  Man- 
ning was  of  the  impression  that  to  get  on  in  the  world,  in  his  own  chosen 
way,  was  no  harder  a  task  than  for  young  David  to  send  that  pebble 
flying  straight  out  of  his  little  sling  at  big  Goliath  with  telling  eflfect. 


620  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

Adversity  was  the  giant  Hank  proposed  to  slay  with  the  little  pebble  ol 
ambition  he  carried  in  his  sling. 

He  had  drawn  the  attention  of  this  unpleasant  giant  upon  himself 
in  the  most  reckless  manner  by  telling  his  father,  a  sturdy  old  Ohio 
farmer,  that  he  could  not  make  himself  satisfied  with  the  narrow  re- 
strictions of  his  home  life  any  longer. 

*  There  were  extenuating  circumstances  of  two  sorts  attending  that 
remark.  He  had  been  presented  with  a  box  of  paints,  and  the  cow  he 
was  milking  just  before  making  it,  had  kicked  him  rudely  on  his 
shoulder.  The  box  of  paints  seemed  to  point  to  the  lofty  career  of  an 
artist,  the  kick  to  pain  and  ignominy. 

So  far,  his  artistic  cravings  had  expended  themselves  in  the  paint- 
ing of  a  very  pink  lady  on  a  very  bumpy  sofa  cushion.  He  intended  it 
for  a  Christmas  present  to  his  mother.  It  was  hidden  between  the  mat- 
tresses in  his  garret  bedroom  on  that  bitterly  cold  morning  when  the 
heifer  kicked  him  on  the  shoulder  and  reduced  the  milking  stool  to 
kindling  wood.     Perhaps  the  heifer,  too,  had  aspirations  for  a  freer  life. 

Knowing  nothing  at  all  about  the  wonderful  pink  lady  of  Hank's 
creation,  Farmer  Manning  looked  at  him  in  contemptuous  surprise  and 
repeated  the  boy's  silly  phrase  with  mocking  emphasis: 

"  *The  narrer  restrictions'  of  this  cawntracted  sphere.  Well, 
Hank,  what  you  goin'  to  do  about  it?" 

Reflectively  rubbing  the  shoulder  the  cow  had  kicked,  Hank  an- 
swered somewhat  bumptiously:  "I  proppse  to  make  my  own  way  in 
the  world,  father,  on  a  higher  plane  than  the  cow  pen." 

"O,  you  do  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

Farmer  Manning,  being  a  testy  old  man,  not  g^ven  to  making 
allowances  for  youthful  outbursts  or  smarting  shoulders,  lifted  his  gray 
head  until  his  cold  gray  eyes  bore  directly  on  the  boy's  moody  face. 

"Well,  then.  Hank,  good-by  and  good  luck  to  you.  You  can  go 
as  soon  as  your  clothes  come  in  from  the  wash,  and  you  can  sink  or 
swim  on  a  plane  higher  than  the  cow  pen.  If  it  turns  out  to  be  *swim,' 
ril  be  the  first  to  congratulate  you ;  if  it's  sink,  don't  come  whimpering 
back  to  me,  for  Jim '11  have  your  place  by  tomorrow  night,  and  this 
cawntracted  sphere  can't  run  but  one  chore  boy." 

Although  those  were  not  his  father's  final  words  they  were  the 
ones  that  haunted  him  at  every  bad  turn  in  his  aflFairs.  They  rang 
with  the  distinctness  of  a  trumpet  when  he  stepped  from  the  cars  at  the 
Grand  Central  Depot  and  found  himself  in  New  York  city',  unknown, 
untried,  bewildered.  They  haunted  him  through  dismal  months  of 
eflFort  and  failure,  when  the  Goliath  of  his  troubles  waxed  bigger  and 
lustier  every  day,  and  the  hand  that  held  his  little  sling  felt  more  nen^e- 
Icss  with  every  setback — "Sink  or  swim,  don't  come  whimpering  back 


to  me." 


They  were  buzzing  in  his  ears  with  malicious  insistence  that  bleak 
morning  when  the  snow-whitened  park  stretched,  a  still,  leafless  ex- 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  621 

panse,  under  the  gray,  unfriendly  skies  of  midwinter.  What  should  he 
try  next  ?  In  his  hours  of  deepest  discouragement  he  never  entertained 
the  idea  of  "whimpering**  back  to  the  farm.  So  far  fortune  had  not 
smiled  upon  him. 

He  had  lost  his  first  place  as  elevator  boy  in  an  uptown  apartment 
house  because  he  could  not  answer  the  annunciator  on  three  separate 
floors  at  once,  for  which  a  rich  old  lady  had  him  dismissed.  He  had 
lost  his  second — as  driver  of  a  butcher's  delivery  wagon — by  reason  of 
delivering  pork  sausage  at  a  patrician  door  and  taking  the  meat  for  a 
ladv's  pug  dog  to  a  sick  woman's  door.  The  pink  lady  herself  added 
to  his  desolation  by  proving  herself  utterly  without  commercial  value. 
He  had  read  stories  of  art  work  bringing  fabulous  prices  in  New  York, 
where  everybody  was  presumed  to  have  more  money  than  they  knew 
what  to  do  with — so  he  had  thought  before  leaving  the  farm — and  he 
had  always  reflected  that  when  the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  he  could 
sell  his  precious  work  of  art.  But  the  pink  lady  was  like  a  damp  fire- 
cracker— she  refused  to  go  off.     What  should  he  try  next? 

It  was  entirely  by  accident  that  he  found  himself  walking  slowly 
along  the  southern  boundary  of  the  great  white  park  that  wintry  day. 
Entirely  by  accident  it  was  that  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  tree  that  had 
split  the  bowlder.  His  life  upon  the  farm  had  made  him  bbservant  of 
nature  in  all  her  manifestations.  At  first  it  was  the  odd  physical  fact 
of  the  sturdy  young  tree  springing  from  the  heart  of  stone  that  made 
him  stop  to  stare.  What  dogged  determination  those  first  soft  green 
shoots  must  have  exerted  to  gain  their  first  hold !  Against  what  seem- 
ingly insurmountable  obstacles  had  that  tree  asserted  itself  and  its  right 
to  a  share  of  this  world's  sunshine.  As  he  stared  Han4c  struck  a  defiant 
attitude,  with  his  hands  in  his  empty  pockets. 

"Say,"  he  soliloquized,  "can't  I  muster  as  much  strength  and  de- 
termination as  those  tender  little  shoots  had  to  exercise?  What  if  I 
have  struck  a  pretty  solid  bowlder  of  bad  luck,  I  needn't  let  it  flatten 
me  out,  or  crush  me  into  pulp.  Can  I  or  can  I  not  little  by  little  inch 
my  way  through  the  hard,  cold  facts  of  today  to  the  warmth  and  the 
sunshine  that  is  sure  to  beam  on  the  successful?  T  ought  to  have  as 
much  pluck  as  a  green  sapling,  I  guess.  I  won't  be  downed.  Thank 
you.  little  tree,  for  the  good  sermon  you've  preached  today.  T  promise 
to  lav  it  to  heart." 

He  felt  a  fleeting  inclination  to  whistle.  He  used  always  to  whis- 
tle about  his  work  on  the  farm.  Rut  the  cold,  hard  facts  of  empty 
pockets  and  an  insufficient  breakfast  silenced  the  tune  on  his  lips.  He 
walked  oast  the  preacher  tree  down  the  sunlit  avenue  where  the  plate- 
glass  windows  of  handsome  houses  gleamed  in  the  bright  light,  and 
long  processions  of  carriages  driven  by  red-faced  coachmen  clothed  in 
costly  furs  made  him  feel  the  cold  more  keenly.  He  stood  idly  watch- 
ing  the  moving  tide  of  life,  at  a  genuine  loss  what  to  try  next. 

A  dingy  old  stagecoach  lumbered  up  to  the  curbstone  just  across 
the  street  from  him.     From  it  stumbled  a  little  old  lady  who,  for  pretti- 


622  CHE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

ness  and  daintiness,  might  have  been  one  of  those  Dresden  figures  he 
had  seen  in  so  many  of  the  high-priced  shop  windows.  The  stage  lum- 
bered on  its  way,  leaving  her  the  picture  of  distress.  How  was  she  to 
cross  the  grimy  pavement  and  to  reach  her  own  door  without  dropping 
some  of  her  many  parcels  or  soiling  her  dainty  skirts?  How  dread- 
fully unwise  of  her  to  have  burdened  herself  down!  Just  then  her 
eyes  lighted  on  Hank. 

''Little  boy,"  she  called. 

It  was  a  genuine  cry  of  distress.  Hank  looked  at  her  sympathet- 
ically, without  at  all  relishing  her  style  of  address. 

"Don't  you  want  to  earn  a  quarter?" 

He  certainly  did,  and  came  nearer  with  an  alacrity  that  said  as 
much. 

"That  stupid  driver  has  put  me  out  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  street. 
I  will  pay  you  for  relieving  me  of  these  parcels.  It  is  just  across  there" 
— she  was  loading  him  up  as  she  spoke — "but  I  see  you  have  a  parcel 
there  already.  I  don't  want  to  stop  you  if  you  are  delivering  to  some- 
bodv  else." 

"Fm  not  delivering  for  anybody,  lady,  and  I  will  be  glad  to  carry 
your  parcels  home.     I  need  the  money." 

The  parcel  under  his  arm  was  the  pink  lady  done  up  in  a  brown 
paper  that  smelled  of  sausage.  He  had  begged  it  of  a  butcher's  boy. 
He  was  making  his  tenth  effort  to  find  a  purchaser  for  her. 

He  stepped  out  briskly  in  his  new  role  of  parcel-carrier  and  only 
wished  he  could  find  more  old  ladies  slush  bound.  Once  across  the 
muddy  avenue  the  old  lady  trotted  briskly  forward  until  she  reached  a 
house  in  the  mi^jdle  of  the  block.  Tall  houses  on  either  side  of  it  made 
a  sunless  spot  of  it,  and  the  snow  and  ice  lay  undisturbed  upon  her 
doorsteps.     She  exclaimed  aloud  at  it. 

"This  is  the  wav  worthless  servants  treat  one  if  one  leaves  home 
for  a  single  night.  They  did  not  expect  me  home  today,  so  things  are 
left,  so  that  I  am  afraid  to  walk  up  my  own  steps.  Give  me  vour  hand, 
little  boy." 

Hank  helped  her  up  the  stone  steps  and  rang  the  bell  for  her.  It 
was  opened  tardily,  then  wider  by  a  startled  footman. 

"You,  ma'am.  We  wasn't  looking  for  you  until  after  New  Year's 
Day." 

The  little  lady  looked  as  severe  as  a  Dresden  figure  could  possibly 
look.  "Evidently  you  thought  I  was  gone  for  a  year.  You  can  come 
for  your  wages  as  soon  as  I  get  my  things  off."  Hank  lingered.  There 
was  a  G^ood  job  of  snow  shoveling  at  hand  for  somebody,  and  if  the 
unfaithful  footman  was  about  to  receive  his  discharge,  he,  Hank,  might 
as  well  secure  the  job.     He  asked  for  it. 

"You  are  quite  welcome  to  the  work,  but  where  are  your  broom 
and  shovel?" 

Hank  flushed,  but  looked  her  squarely  in  the  face  with  honest 
eyes :    "I  don't  own  tools,  lady.     I  may  as  well  own  up.     I  am  hard 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  623 

up  for  a  dinner  and  I  want  to  earn  one.  I  never  cleaned  snow  away 
before,  but  I  guess  I  can  do  it  alright." 

"It  is  to  your  credit  tliat  you  did  not  go  to  the  basement  door  and 
demand  your  dinner.  That's  the  fashion  now.  I'll  furnish  the  broom 
and  shovel.     How  am  I  to  know  you  won't  walk  oflf  with  them?" 

'*Walk  off  with  your  broom  and  shovel?" 

They  were  standing  in  the  steam-heated  room  now.  He  looked 
at  her  in  momentary  indignation,  then  smiled  and  extended  the  only 
parcel  left  after  he  had  handed  hers  over.  "You  can  keep  this  for 
security,  lady,"  he  said,  I  guess  it's  good  for  one  broom  and  shovel. 
It's  a  picture  I  painted  myself." 

A  white-capped  maid  was  busy  relieving  the  old  lady  of  her  wraps. 
To  her  the  old  lady  addressed  herself.  "Give  him  a  broom  and  shovel, 
Jenny.  I  was  just  trying  you,  little  boy.  You  can  leave  your  picture 
on  the  hatrack.  Not  as  security  for  my  things,  but  for  its  own  safety, 
and  when  you  are  ready  for  your  dinner  Jenny  will  give  it  to  you,  and 
then  you  can  come  to  the  library  to  see  me  before  you  go." 

Gratefully  depositing  the  pink  lady  on  the  hatrack,  Hank  returned 
to  the  icy  street  to  earn  his  dinner. 

The  snow  and  ice  had  lain  in  front  of  the  closed  house  until  pass- 
ing feet  had  made  a  compact  mass  of  it.  Hank  was  inexperienced  and 
the  shovel  was  small.  More  than  two  hours  of  hard  work,  were  neces- 
sary for  its  removal.  When  he  rang  the  basement  bell  to  announce 
that  his  job  was  done  Jenny  answered  it  with  a  grave  face.  •  She  had 
to  inform  him  that  the  pink  lady  had  been  reduced  to  a  thing  of  shreds 
and  patches  by  the  old  lady's  pug.     Hank's  white  face  exasperated  her. 

"Well,  then,  what  for  did  you  go  and  wrap  a  picture  in  paper  smell- 
ing like  a  butcher's  shop?  The  missis  wants  to  see  you  in  the  library 
up  stairs.     Gro  straight  up  this-a-way." 

The  old  lady  sat  with  a  very  concerned  look  upon  her  sweet  old 
face.  She  sat  before  a  big  table  and  with  fingers  like  bits  of  old  ivory 
she  was  laboring  over  the  wreck  of  the  pink  lady.  Hank's  white  face 
was  not  reassuring. 

"My  little  dog  did  it.     I  am  very  sorry." 

The  boy's  lips  quivered  as  he  answered,  unsteadily:  "It  was  all 
that  stood  between  me  and  debt.     I  was  bound  to  sell  it." 

"Sit  right  down,"  said  the  old  lady,  imperiously,  "and  tell  me  all 
about  that  picture  and  yourself.  I  know  you've  got  a  story  to  tell  me. 
You  don't  look  like  a  regular  street  urchin." 

"Not  much  of  a  story,  ma'am,  but  I'm  not  ashamed  to  tell  you 
all  there  is  to  it." 

Soon  the  old  lady  knew  all  there  was  to  tell.  Then  she  comforted 
the  friendless  boy  mightily. 

"I  can  make  it  all  right  about  the  picture,  of  course,  and  if  you 
"have  real  talent,  you  will  find  some  way  to  show  it  sooner  or  later, 
but  you  can't  live  on  air  while  you  are  finding  out.  Now,  my  boys,  are 
all  plain  business  men,  who  have  made  their  own  way  upward  until 


624  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

tliey  are  very  nicely  fixed.  One  is  in  hardware,  the  other  in  coffee. 
My  coffee  son  is  to  pay  me  a  week's  visit.  I  have  just  been  on  a  visit 
to  my  hardware  son. 

"You  can  wait  down  stairs  with  Jenny  or  you  can  come  back  here 
at  eight  o'clock  to  see  my  coffee  son.  I  shall  ask  him  to  give  you 
something  to  do.  It  may  be  very  low  down,  perhaps  .sweeping  out  tlie 
office,  moving  of  coffee  sacks,  or  running  errands,  but  it  is  a  good 
thing  to  find  yonr  ladder." 

"I  will  begin  as  low  down  on  the  ladder  as  he  may  choose  to  put 
me.  lady.  I've  got  to  do  niv  own  climbing,  of  course.  If  you  please, 
lady,  my  name  is  Henry  Manning,  and  I  will  come  back  at  eight 
o'clock." 

The  coffee  man  proved  as  kind-hearted  as  his  sweet  old  mother, 
and  after  an  exhaustive  catechism  by  which  he  satisfied  himself  that 
Hank  was  telling  him  the  truth,  he  took  him  into  the  big  importing 
hou.se'  and  gave  him  work. 

Hank,  a  full-fledged  order  clerk  in  the  same  concern  now,  has  an 
old  diary  which  he  says  he  is  saving  to  give  to  his  first  son  when  he  is 
starting  out  to  sink  or  swim. 

"Began  life  at  thirts'cn  a'^  t  ti^intcr  in  oils.  Was  ]>ranioted  to  the 
position  of  sweeper  in  a  coffee  house  at  fourteen.  Two  dollars  a  week 
as  sweep  heats  nothing  a  year  as  an  artist.  Moral :  Find  your  ladder 
in  this  world  and  then  do  your  own  climhing.  Don't  fancy  yoii  are  a 
painter  Just  because  somebody  presents  you  with  a  paint  box," 


Impatient  people  water  their  miseries  and  hoe  up  their  comforts; 
sorrows  are  visitors  that  come  without  invitation,  but  complaining 
minds  send  a  wagon  to  bring  their  troubles  home  in.  Many  people  are 
born  crving.  live  complaining,  and  die  disafppointed :  they  chew  the 
bitter  pill  which  they  would  not  even  know  to  he  bitter  if  they  had  the 
sense  to  swallow  it  whole  in  a  cup  of  patfence  and  water. — C.  H. 
Spurgeon. 


Baby  Lillie  will  try  to  skip, "with  her  pretty  flower-bud 
rope.  Take  care  Baby,  and  do  not  trip,  you  will  not  fall, 
I  hope!  Out  doors  the  leaves  turn  red  and  brown,  and 
fall  from  bush  and  tree;  but  that  is  no  cause  for  you  to  fall 
down,  here  safe  in  the  house  you  see.  It  is  good  for  Babies 
to  hop  and  skip,  and  run  and  leap  and  jump;  and  it's  good 
to  take  care  that  feet  do  not  slip,  or  a  head  may  get  a 
bump. 

November  in  the  months  we  count  eleven,  Baby 
Lillie  can  pray  to  Father  in  Heaven. 

L.  LULA  GREENE  RICHARDS 


JUST  FOR  FUN. 

HIS  JUST  DESSERTS. 
The  man  who  complains  of  his  victuals, 
And  all  his  wife's  cooking  belictuals. 
Should  be  starved  till  he's  thin 
As  a  wooden  tenpin 
Like  thev  used  in  the  old  game  of  skictuals. 
Alex.  F. 
The  teacher  lammed  him  on  the  head, 

Which  was  against  the  rale ; 
It  made  the  children  laugh  and  play 
To  see  a  lam  in  school. 

—Selected. 

"It's  awful  queer  to  me,"  said  Jimmie  as 
he  thought  it  over.  "I  can't  see  why  chickens 
that  haven't  any  hair  have  combs,  while  dogs 
and  horses  that  have  hair  don't  have  any 
combs." — Harper's  Young  People. 

First   Mother — What  is  your  boy's  fav- 
orite dish? 

Second  Mother — Well,  I  hardly  know — but  it  certainly  isn't  the 
wash-dish.  • 

"We  had  a  sensational  case  of  kidnaping  in  our  house  lately." 
"Yon  don't  tell  nie!     How  did  it  happen?" 
"The  baby  .slept  the  whole  night." 

It  was  the  first  time  Dorothy  had  seen  a  street  sprinkler.  Oh, 
mother,"  she  exclaimed,  with  wide-open-eyes,  "just  see  what  that 
man's  got  on  his  wagon  to  keep  the  boys  from  riding  on  behind!" 

'Georgie,  I'm  glad  to  see  that  you  are  polite  and  offer  sister  the 
oranges  first."  "Yes'ni;  'cause  then  she  has  to  be  polite,  an'  take  the 
little  one." 

Teacher :  Johnny,  what  do  you  suppose  will  become  of  you  if  ;i>u 
don't  learn  to  spell  better? 

Johnny:     Dunno.     I  expect  I'll  take  to  writing  dialect  stories. 

Small  Tommy — "The  teacher  wanted  to  box  my  ears  this  morn- 
ing." 

Grandpa — "How  do  you  know  he  did?" 

Small  Tonmiy — "  'Cause  he  wouldn't  have  boxed  'em  if  he  hadn't 
wanted  to."^Stray  Stories. 


OFFICERS*  DEPARTMENT 


NOTICE  TO  PRESIDENTS. 

Announcement  has  been  made  by  the  Presiding  Bishopric  of  the 
Qiurch  that  the  new  addition  to  the  Latter-day  Saints  Hospital  will  be 
completed  about  the  first  month  in  the  new  year.  Until  that  time,  noth- 
ing can  be  done  by  the  General  Board  of  Primary  Associations  toward 
the  furnishing  of  the  Primary  Ward  for  children,  and  no  patients  can 
be  received  as  beneficiaries  of  our  association. 

We  trust  all  officers  will  bear  this  statement  in  mind. 

STAKE  AIDS. 

As  the  Primary  work  has  progressed,  with  a  steady  increase  in 
the  number  of  wards  to  be  supervised  and  visited,  it  has  been  found 
necessary  to  call  to  the  assistance  of  stake  officers,  other  workers, 
termed  aids. 

They  are  to  assist,  under  the  direction  of  the  presidency,  in  all 
matters  pertaining  to  the  welfare  of  the  organization.  A  conscientious 
aid  will  attend  every  board  meeting,  or  send  a  legitimate  excuse  for  her 
absence.    This  is  a  courtesy  due  to  the  president. 

Aids  have  an  important  voting  power  on  the  board,  and  should 
give  intelligent  consideration  to  every  question  placed  before  them. 
Honest  opinions  on  a  proposition  should  be  expressed  before  the  board 
as  a  whole,  and,  after  careful  deliberation,  each  member  should  do  her 
utmost  to  put  into  effect  the  decision  of  the  board  on  a  majority  vote. 

Aids  should  be  ready  to  assist  at  all  times  in  any  department  where 
the  need  is  most  urgent.  In  the  Primary  Association  much  attention 
is  paid  to  the  art  of  lesson-giving ;  therefore,  an  aid  can  only  do  efficient 
work  when  she  is  thoroughly  familiar  with  the  department  outlines  in 
The  Children's  Friend,  She  should  be  a  ready  advisor  and  a  wise 
counselor,  exercising  tactful  care  in  her  dealings  with  local  officers,  so 
that  only  good  may  result  from  any  assistance  she  is  called  upon  to. 
render. 

It  is  the  privilege  of  a  local  officer  to  refer  to  a  stake  aid  any  ques- 
tion on  Primary  affairs  that  needs  settlement.  It  is  necessary,  there- 
fore, that  each  aid  have  some  knowledge  of  the  adopted  policy  in  each 
department  of  the  organization,  that  she  may  answer  these  questions 
wisely.  In  case  of  doubt,  however,  the  question  should  be  referred 
back  to  the  Stake  Board  as  a  whole.  No  decision  should  be  given  hap- 
hazardly. Much  confusion  and  misunderstanding  will  be  avoided  if 
this  rule  is  conscientiously  followed.    An  aid  should  know  the  policy  of 


628  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

the  board,  and  should  say  or  do  nothing  to  lessen  the  influence  or  un- 
dermine the  work  of  another.  She  should  keep  in  mind  always,  that 
the  aid  comes  to  the  local  association,  not  as  a  critic,  but  as  a  co-laborer, 
desiring  to  assist,  whenever  and  wherever  opportunity  is  presented  or 
counsel  is  sought,  for  the  upbuilding  of  the  association.  Criticism 
should  never  be  given  before  a  class.  Suggestions  to  a  teacher  should 
be  made  privately. 

Aids  shpuld  also  familiarize  themselves  with  the  forms  of  reports 
in  use  by  the  association,  and  assist,  under  the  direction  of  the  stake 
secretary,  in  securing  prompt  attention  to  this  important  detail  of  our 
work. 

THE  LIBRARIAN— STAKE  AND  LOCAL. 

Since  the  establishment  of  libraries  in  the  Primary  Association, 
the  members  of  the  General  Board  placed  in  charge  of  this  department, 
have  given  much  thought  and  consideration  to  the  subject  of  books. 
The  desire  is  to  place  only  the  best  literature  in  the  hands  of  our  boys 
and  girls  and  teachers.  Advice  and  assistance  in  the  establishment  of 
a  library  and  the  selection  of  books  is  available  at  all  times  upon  appli- 
cation to  the  General  Board. 

The  librarian  receives  and  distributes  the  books  of  the  association, 
and  must  therefore  be  specially  qualified  for  the  position  and  thor- 
oughly trustworthy.  As  far.  as  possible,  she  should  become  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  contents  of  the  books  placed  under  her  care,  and 
should  aid  in  their  selection.  She  should  be  careful  to  select  books 
containing  stories  that  are  wholesome  and  true  to  life,  true  to  fact, 
true  to  truth.  The  characters  should  be  such  as  we  would 
choose  as  companions  for  our  children,  those  respectful  to  authorit\' 
and  seeking  truth  rather  than  error.  Books  that  describe  pranks  and 
practical  jokes  leading  to  the  discomfiture  of  elders  as  though  they 
were  funny,  are  not  wholesome,  and  should  be  kept  out  of  our  homes. 
Stories  that  lay  unnecessary  stress  on  treachery  or  deception  among 
young  people  are  also  undesirable. 

She  should  aim  to  keep  the  library  in  a  growing  condition,  and  her- 
self informed  regarding  the  best  literature  for  teachers  and  children.  The 
Librarian  should  be  orderly  and  painstaking,  willing  to  lead  out.  under 
the  direction  of  her  presiding  officers,  in  soliciting  books  or  means  by 
which  to  purchase  them.  She  should  encourage  the  reading  habit 
among  her  associates,  and  endeavor  to  stimulate  interest  by  urging 
widespread  use  of  the  books  upon  the  library  shelves.  Before  dis- 
tributing the  volumes,  all  should  be  catalogued  by  name  and  number, 
the  number,  with  any  other  item  of  record,  to  be  entered  upon  the  fly- 
leaf of  the  volume  itself. 

Books,  if  they  are  read  as  widely  as  it  is  desired  they  should  be, 
receive  much  handling,  and  should  be  covered  with  a  stout  paper. 
The  title  of  the  book  and  the  name  of  its  author  should  be  plainly 
printed  on  the  back  of  the  cover.  The  back  of  a  new  book  is  often 
broken  by  careless  handling  when  the  volume  is  first  examined.    It 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  629 

should  be  opened  with  covers  lying  flat  upon  the  table.  Hold  the 
bulk  of  the  leaves  in  a  vertical  position.  Alternate  from  front  to  back 
and  press  gently  down  a  few  leaves  at  a  time.  See  that  all  leaves  are 
cut. 

Every  teacher  should  know  and  be  prepared  to  tell  some  of  the 
things  that  mark  the  difference  between  a  good  and  a  bad  story  for 
children.    These  are  some  of  the  things  to  bear  in  mind: 

A  JACK-O'-LANTERN  PARTY. 

A  Suggestion  for  an  Inexpensive  and  Merry  Thanksgiving  Festivity, 

BY  JEANNETTE  L.  PORTER. 

(The  Jack-o'-lantern  Party  is  given  as  a  suggestion  for  the  Primary 
officers  to  use  as  a  means  to  make  some  money  for  necessary  expenses, 
such  as  subscriptions,  books,  materials  for  busy  hour,  etc.  The  program 
and  decorations  may  be  changed  to  fit  circumstances  and  environment. 
A  charge  may  be  made  for  admission,  refreshments  and  "Her  Pumpkin 
Plentiful"  privileges  sold.) 

Any  birthday  or  anniversary  that  falls  in  the  autumn  may  be  cele- 
brated by  a  Jack-o'-lantern  party,  for  this  feast  is  a  movable  one,  and 
any  time  after  the  fall  corn  is  ripe  Merry  Jack  is  alert  for  a  frolic. 

The  invitations  to  such  a  party  should  read : 

The  Jack-o'-lanterns 

at  home,  November  24th,  after  eight  o'clock. 

Please  bring  a  Jack-o'-lantern  with  you,  and  name  it. 

The  time  must  necessarily  be  very  limited,  for,  after  all,  Jack  him- 
self is  a  short-lived  "immortal,"  and  frolics  in  his  honor  must  crowd  a 
great  deal  into  the  brief  space  of  his  queer  little  lifetime. 

Plenty  of  orange  and  green  bunting  or  cheese-cloth,  festooned  and 
tied  with  stalks  of  ripe  wheat  and  corn,  should  be  generously  draped 
from  the  windows  and  doors  and  on  the  veranda  wherever  it  is  prac- 
ticable. The  light  should  be  soft  and  subdued,  with  as  much  firelight 
as  possible,  so  that  the  general  effect  may  be  mysterious,  with  deep 
shadows  and  dark  comers. 

Harvesting  implements,  and  baskets  should  stand  suggestively 
about,  and  Jack-o'-lanterns  must  appear  everywhere  indiscriminately. 

The  invitations  should  have  some  queer  little  sketch  of  him  drawn 
in  the  upper  left-hand  comer,  and  he  must  peep  from  the  bushes  and 
trees,  from  doorways  and  arbors,  and  hang  mysteriously  from  posts, 
like  gibbets  arranged  for  him. 

When  the  Jack-o'-lantems  begin  to  assemble  it  is  pretty  certain  to 
be  noticed  that  no  two  Jacks  are  alike.  Indeed,  their  individuality  will 
he  such  that  you  will  soon  realize  that  you  would  quite  as  readily  think 
of  confusing  Peter  Piper  with  Old  King  Cole,  or  Jack  Homer  with 


630  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

the  Queen  of  Hearts,  as  to  call  one  pumpkin  by  another  pumpkin's 
name.  Introductions  and  imaginery  conversations  between  the  Jack- 
o'-lanterns  should  make  the  first  moments  very  jolly. 

All  maner  of  merry  games  must  follow,  such  as  "hide-and-seek," 
"shepherd-and-sheep"  and  "blindman's-buff."  A  charming  lawn  game 
for  the  little  people  may  be  arranged  by  hammering  small  pegs  of  wood 
into  the  earth,  four  or  five  inches  apart,  in  a  circle  six  feet  in  diameter ; 
orange  and  white  calico  may  be  torn  into  strips  and  passed  once  around 
each  peg,  until  the  circle  is  outlined  with  the  bright  colors.  A  smaller 
circle  must  be  similarly  made  in  the  center  of  the  large  one,  and  the 
children  must  try  to  roll  oranges  into  it.  Every  orange  that  rolls  into 
the  center  circle  and  stays  there  counts  ten,  and  thirty  points  win  an 
orange. 

After  the  games  outdoors  everybody  will  be  hungry  for  supper.  A 
table  spread  with  white,  and  decorated  with  yellow  and  green,  may  be 
charmingly  arranged  either  on  the  veranda  or  indoors.  The  centerpiece 
should  be  a  horn  of  plenty,  securely  suspended  over  the  table,  and  filled 
with  ripe  grain  and  fruits  and  flowers. 

Tiny  Jack-o'-lanterns  made  of  oranges  hollowed  out  and  set  on 
candlesticks  should  be  at  each  plate.  The  name-cards  should  be  dec- 
orated with  queer  little  faces  on  pumpkin  and  melon  seeds  perched  on 
knives  and  forks  and  spoons. 

The  courses  may  all  be  suggestive  of  the  seasons.  Nuts  should 
play  a  conspicuous  part.  For  favors  nothing  is  more  satisfactory  than 
gingerbread  dolls. 

After  supper  everybody  must  find  their  way  to  "Old  Lady  Boun- 
tiful with  Her  Pumpkin  Plentiful,"  which  should  be  arranged  before- 
hand, and  kept  a  profound  secret  until  after  supper. 

'*01d  Lady  Bountiful"  is  very  simply  made.  A  huge  pumpkin  is 
cut  out  like  a  false-face,  and  suspended  by  two  wires  from  the  ceiling. 
Some  very  jolly  person  must  dress  up  in  an  old-fashioned  costume  of 
orange  and  green  calico,  and  stand  behind  the  pumpkin  mask.  Then 
a  large  sunbonnet  must  be  placed  over  the  entire  head.  The  eflfect  is 
wonderfully  amusing  if  arranged  in  a  dark  comer,  where  a  side-light 
shines  on  the  face. 

"Her  Pumpkin  Plentiful"  is  a  great  deal  after  the  order  of  an  old- 
fashioned  grab-bag  made  to  look  like  a  pumpkin.  Take  four  barrel- 
hoops  ;  cross  three  of  them  inside  each  other,  and  tie  them  together  at 
the  top  and  bottom,  so  that  each  rests  at  an  equal  distance  from  the 
other,  like  the  meridians  on  a  globe.  Tie  the  forth  hoop  around  the 
other  three,  like  the  equator  on  a  globe.  Cover  this  frame  with  pump- 
kin-colored calico,  remembering  to  leave  a  good-sized  hole.  Then  fill 
it  with  fresh  sawdust,  and  hide  in  it  a  variety  of  little  surprises — small 
china  lucky-dogs,  thimbles,  rings,  bits  of  old  coin,  needle-cases,  and  all 
manner  of  charms — so  that  everybody  may  rummage  and  find  their 
future  fate  in  "Her  Pumpkin  Plentiful."    The  omens  of  the  articles 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  631 

drawn  are  the  usual  ones :  A  thimble  for  an  old  maid,  a  coin  for  riches, 
a  ring  for  an  engagement,  and  so  on. 

For  the  next  feature  of  the  evening  the  hostess  scatters  handfuls  of 
pumpkin-seeds  over  the  floor,  and  hands  each  guest  a  needle  threaded 
with  strong  thread ;  then  there  is  a  merry  race  to  see  who  can  make  the 
longest  chain  of  pumpkin-seeds  in  ten,  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes,  or 
any  given  time. 

A  merry  Virginia  reel  usually  ends  the  festivities,  though  the 
bravest  of  the  guests  linger  for  a  ghost-story,  and  a  big  romp  with 
the  Jack-o'-lanterns  out  of  doors  is  sure  to  happen  when  everybody 
starts  for  home. 

For  ghost-stories  may  be  told  Kipling's  "Morrowbie  Jukes,"  Poe's 
"Fall  of  the  House  of  Usher"  and  Irving's  "Headless  Horseman." 

Suggestive  names  for  the  Jack-o'-lanters  may  be  Danny  Deever, 
Peter  Piper,  Simple  Simon,  Dooly,  Jim  Crow,  Queen  of  Hearts,  and 
the  like. 

Parents  and  teachers  who  have  tried  any  or  all  of  the  above  sug- 
gestions in  entertaining  the  young  folks  have  pronounced  them  delight- 
fully novel  and  jolly. 

POP  CORN  SONG  AND  RECITATION. 

(For  three  or  more  little  girls.) 

(Three  or  four  children  enter  carrying  ears  of  pop  corn,  and  pop- 
pers and  pans.  They  are  decorated  with  strings  of  popped  corn.  They 
merrily  seat  themselves  on  the  floor  (or  they  may  carry  in  with  them 
little  stools),  and  shell  the  corn  into  the  pans,  singing.) 

(Air — "With   a  rig-a-jig-jig,  and  away  we  go.") 
We  shell  the  corn  for  a  pop-corn  ball, 
The  kernels  rattle  as  they  fall. 
It's  fun  for  us  and  fun  for  all ; 

We  merrily  shell  the  corn. 
The  kernels  grow  in  a  little  row, 
It's  time  for  them  to  come  off,  you   know. 
So  into  the  pan  they  clattering  go. 
We  merrily  shell  the  corn. 
(They  pour  the  corn  from  the  pans  into  the  poppers.) 
The  firelight  flickers  through  the  room, 
It  lights  the  fleeting  spots  of  gloom, 
The  pop-corn  bursts  in  snowy  bloom, 
As  we  merrily  pop  the  com. 
{They  shake  the  poppers  in  time  to  the  singing) 
Pop,  pop!  The  red  coals  make  them  pop! 
The  little  ones  under,  the  big  on  top; 
Against  the  lid  of  the  pan  they  hop: 
We  merrily  pop  the  com. 
(They  repeat  the  last  stanza,  as  they  rise  and  dance  out  carrying 
their  poppers  and  pans  unth  them.) — 5"//. 


LESSON  DEPARTMENT 


Subfcct  for  tbe  /ftontbt    Dtsciplinc  Of  JExpertcnce. 

The  Lesson  Hour. 

LESSON  FORTY-FIVE. 

SUGGESTIONS  FOR  ALL  THE  TEACHERS. 

The  last  chapter  in  Character,  by  Smiles,  is,  perhaps,  the  best 
in  the  book.  Each  teacher  is  urged  to  read  it  for  herself  and  ab- 
sorb as  much  as  possible  of  its  beauty  and  worth.  If  the  subject 
could  be  discussed  in  the  monthly  meeting  and  in  the  local  preparation 
meeting,  the  time  given  to  such  discussion  would  be  of  great  value  to 
the  workers  and  should  result  in  the  most  interesting  lessons  for 
the  children. 

The  story  of  the  birth  of  our  Savior,  with  a  brief  review  of  His  life 
should  be  told  in  each  lesson  hour.  The  children  should  be  helped  to 
realize  and  appreciate  the  wonderful  experience  of  the  great  Teacher, 
to  be  stimulated  to  follow  in  His  footsteps  and  always  be  ready,  as  He 
was,  to  put  their  faith  in  God. 

As  these  lessons  are  given  during  the  Christmas  month,  many  op- 
portunities may  be  made  for  the  teachers  to  give  practical  assistance 
to  the  children  in  learning  lessons  of  loving  and  serving;  teach  that  it 
is  better  to  give  than  to  receive  and  show^  them  useful  and  happy  ways 
in  which  they  may  make  this  the  most  beautiful  Christmas  they  have 
ever  experienced.  During  the  lessons  for  this  month  use  pictures  and 
Christmas  decorations  and  cultivate  the  spirit  of  the  season  as  much 
as  possible. 

FIRST  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text:     Character,  hv  Smiles,  chapter  12. 

Bible :     Life  of  Christ. 
Other  Materials. 

Memory  Gem. 

Games. 

Songs. 

Pictures. 

Rest  Exercises. 
Aim. 

The  right  kind  of  experience  teaches  wisdom  and  reliance  on  our 
Father  in  Heaven. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  633 

Illustration. 

"Santa  Bobby  Claus."   The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  10.  page  594. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher:  Talk  about  Christmas,  let  the  chil- 
dren tell  what  they  can  remember  about  the  last  one.  If  any  of  them 
received  books  as  gifts,  find  out  what  care  they  took  of  them,  this  will 
help  to  review  the  last  lesson  and  serve  to  introduce  the  new  one.  Tell 
enough  about  the  birth  and  life  of  the  Savior  to  impress  the  thought 
of  trying  one's  best  to  be  kind  and  helpful.  Talk  about  something  to 
make  for  Christmas  presents  and  make  such  arrangements  as  you 
desire  to  make  ready  for  the  Busy  Hour. 

Memory  Gem. 

All  that's  great  and  good  is  done  just  by  patient  trying. — Phoebe 
Cary. 

Poem.  rtfittle  Builders. 

Little  Bunders,  day  by  day. 
Building  vvith  the  words  we  say ; 
Building  jrom  our  hearts  within, 
Thoughts  of  good,  or  thoughts  of  sin. 
Building  with  the  deeds  we  do. 
Actions  ill,  or  pure  and  true, 
Oh,  how  careful  we  must  be 
Building  for  eternity. 
Building,  building  every  day. 
Help  us,  Lord,  to  watch  and  pray. 

— Selected. 

SECOND  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text:     Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  12. 

Bible :     Life  of  Christ. 
Other  Materials. 

Memory  Gem. 

Games. 

Songs. 

Pictures. 

Rest  Exercises. 

Aim. 

The  right  kind  of  experience  teaches  wisdom  and  reliance  on  our 
Father  in  Heaven. 

Illustration. 

"The  Will-Muscle."    The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  10,  page  95. 
Suggestions  for  the  Teacher:     If  you  can  find  some  picture  or 


634  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

story  book  which  has  been  in  use  for  a  long  time,  use  it  in  the  class 
to  help  in  the  review.  Talk  about  the  value  of  taking  care  of  books, 
and  other  things  which  children  enjoy  using;  emphasize  consideration 
for  friends.  Use  the  thought  of  Christmas  to  suggest  kind  things  to 
do  and  make.  The  memory  gem  will  help  the  children  to  understand 
how  constant  trying  to  do  right  things  helps  the  one  who  tries.  Illus- 
trate by  telling  briefly  the  story  of  the  life  of  Christ.  The  supplement- 
tary  story  and  poem  will  emphasize  the  value  of  the  discipline  of  ex- 
perience. Talk  about  the  Christmas  gifts  you  are  going  to  help  your 
class  to  make.  Make  such  arrangements  about  materials  as  are  nec- 
essary. 

Memory  Gem. 

"Try,  and  try  and  try  again ;    For  those  who  keep  on  trying  make 
the  world's  best  men  and  women." 

Poem.  Little  By  Little. 

Little  by  little  the  bird  builds  her  nest ; 
Little  by  little  the  sun  sinks  to  rest : 
Little  by  little  the  waves,  in  their  glee, 
Smooth  the  rough  rocks  by  the  shore  of  the  sea. 

Drop  after  drop  falls  the  soft  summer  shower ; . 
Leaf  upon  leaf  grows  the  cool  forest  bower ; 
Grain  heaped  on  grain  forms  the  mountain  so  high 
That  its  cloud-capped  summit  is  lost  to  the  eye. 

Little  by  little  the  bee  to  her  cell 

Brings  the  sweet  honey,  and  gamers  it  well; 

Little  by  little  the  ant  layeth  by, 

From  the  summer's  abundance,  the  winter's  supply. 

Minute  by  minute,  so  passes  the  day ; 
Hour  after  hour  years  are  gliding  away. 
The  moments  improve  until  life  be  past. 
And,  little  by  little,  grow  wise  to  the  last. 

— Selected. 
THIRD  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text:    Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  12. 
Bible:    The  Life  of  Christ. 
Other  Materials. 
Memory  Gem. 
Poem. 
Songs. 
Pictures. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  635 

Aim. 

The  right  kind  of  experience  teaches  wisdom  and  reliance  on  our 
Father  in  Heaven. 

"Which  Did  You  Win."  The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  10.  page 
103. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher:  Find  out  if  any  of  the  children  have 
tried  to  care  for  tiieir  books.  If  they  know  how  to  make  covers  to  pro- 
tect them,  etc.  This  will  give  opportunity  to  review  the  last  lesson 
and  to  introduce  the  new  by  discussing  how  especially  this  month,  we 
may  be  careful  of  our  friends  and  prove  we  mean  to  try  to.  be  good 
friends  ourselves.  Discuss  the  giving  of  Christmas  gifts  and  tell  the 
children  how  you  intend  to  help  them,  making  such  arrangements 
as  are  necessary  for  materials.  Let  the  children  tell  why  we  celebrate 
Christmas.  Emphasize  the  value  in  giving  rather  than  in  receiving. 
Encourage  them  to  do  their  best  in  the  mjJcing  of  gifts,  to  be  careful 
to  have  their  gifts  represent  good  earnest  effort.  The  supplementary 
material  will  help  to  make  clear  the  aim  of  the  lesson. 

Memory  Gem, 

"The  boys  and  girls  who  do  their  best, 

Their  best  will  better  grow ; 
But  those  who  slight  their  daily  task, 
They  let  the  better  go." 

Poem, 

My  friend,  have  you  heard  of  the  town  of  Yawn, 

On  the  banks  of  the  river  Slow, 

Where  blossoms  the  Waitawhile  flowers  fair. 

Where  the  Sometimeorother  scents  the  air. 

And  the  soft  Goeasys  grow? 

It  lies  in  the  valley  of  Whatstheuse, 

In  the  province  of  Letitslide, 

That  tired  feeling  is  native  there — 

It's  the  name  of  the  listless,  Idontcare, 

Where  the  Putitoffs  abide." 

—The  Playbox. 

FOURTH  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text:    Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  12. 

Bible:    The  Life  of  Christ. 
Other  Materials. 

Memory  Gem. 

Poem. 

Aim. 

The  right  kind  of  experience  teaches  wisdom  and  reliance  on 
our  Father  in  Heaven. 


63t-  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

J 

Illustration. 

"Honest  Andy."  The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  10,  page  384. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher:  For  the  review  discuss  Sie  value  of 
books  as  friends  and  the  influence  they  have  in  the  foundation  of  char- 
acter. Give  as  much  as  you  think  wise  of  what  Smiles  says  about  the 
discipline  of  experience  and  illustrate  by  the  life  of  Christ. 

All  the  Supplementary  material  will  help  to  impress  the  value  of 
the  aim  of  the  lesson.  Keep  the  spirit  of  Christmas  as  prominently  as 
possible  before  the  class  all  through  the  month.  Discuss  the  preparation 
of  gifts,  explain  the  help  you  intend  to  give  and  make  arrangements  with 
the  boys  and  girls  for  materials,  etc.,  for  the  busy  hour.  The  questions 
and  quotations  are  left  out  to  gfive  time  for  the  discussion  of  gift  work. 

Memory  Gem, 

Heaven  is  not  gained  at  a  single  bound ; 
But  we  build  the  ladder  by  which  we  rise 
From  the  lowly  earth  to  the  vaulted  skies, 
And  we  mount  to  its  summit  round  and  round. 

— Holland. 
Poem.  Struggle  On. 

BY  WILLIAM   EBEN  SCHULTZ. 

If  you  want  to  win  success, 

Struggle  on ; 
You  must  always  do  your  best — 

Struggle  on; 
For  you'll  surely  have  to  hustle 
In  the  big  world's  broil  and  bustle ; 
If  you'd  win  out  in  the  tussle. 

Struggle  on ; 
If  you  want  to  gain  your  end. 

Struggle  on; 
Never  let  your  purpose  bend — 

Struggle  on; 
If  you  make  a  fatal  blunder 
That  may  drive  your  hopes  asunder, 
Never  let  it  push  you  under — 

Struggle  on. 

FIFTH  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Text:     Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  12. 

Bible :     The  Life  of  Christ. 
Other  Materials. 

Memory  Gem. 

Poem. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  637 

Aim. 

The  right  kind  of  experience  teaches  wisdom  and  reliance  on  our 
Father  in  Heaven. 

Illustration. 

"Luck."    The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  10,  page  431. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher:  Review  the  last  lesson  and  intro- 
duce the  new  one  through  the  memory  gem  and  poem  from  the  last 
lesson.  Give  some  of  the  best  points  from  chapter  twelve  in  Char- 
acter, and  review  the  Life  of  Christ  to  make  clear  the  value  of  ex- 
perience. Use  memory  gem  and  poem  to  emphasize  the  aim.  Take 
advantage  of  the  Christmas  time  to  help  the  boys  and  girls  to  feel 
the  spirit  of  loving  service  and  be  prepared  to  discuss  with  them  ways 
and  means  of  doing  things  to  make  this  the  most  beautiful  of  sea- 
sons. Explain  your  plan  for  the  busy  hour,  so  that  each  one  will  come 
prepared  for  the  work  you  have  decided  to  do. 

The  doing  of  some  definite  thing  will  give  the  children  the  dis- 
cipline of  experience  and  you  may  teach  this  valuable  lesson  very  suc- 
cessfully without  saying  very  much  about  it. 

Memory  Gem, 

"We  rise  by  the  things  that  are  'neath  our  feet, 
By  what  we  have  mastered  of  greed  or  gain ; 
By  a  pride  deposed  or  a  passion  slain; 

And  the  vanquished  ills  that  we  hourly  meet." 

Poem,  Success  and  Luck. 

Success  was  an  earnest  boy. 

With  dinner  pail  and  spade; 
While  Luck  hung  about  the  town 

Where  foolish  games  were  played ! 

Success  was  at  work  each  day 

From  daylight  until  dark! 
But  luck  with  one  eye  alert 

Lolled  'round  the  city  park! 

Ah  me!  this  was  long  ago; 

A  score  of  years  or  more — 
Success?    Oh,  he's  working  yet! 

And  luck?     Hard  luck!     He's  sore! 

Author  Unknown. 


^ 


638  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

LESSON  FORTY-SIX. 

The  Busy   Hour. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher:  Before  beginning  the  work,  have 
a  little  informal  talk  about  the  Christmas  time.  Let  the  children 
tell  what  the  birth  of  Christ  means  to  the  world.  Bear  your  testi- 
mony, in  simple  words,  to  the  restoration  of  the  Gospel  through  the 
Prophet  Joseph  Smith.  Help  the  children  to  understand  how  mudi 
happiness  comes  to  those  who  are  willing  to  live  the  Gospel  and  that 
loving  service  given  for  others  is  part  of  the  Gospel  plan. 

Recite  in  concert  one  of  the  following  or  some  of  the  memory 
gems  or  poems  given  in  the  lesson  hour. 

Merry  Christmas. 

"A  Merry,  Merry,  Christmas, 

The  little  people  say; 
We  wish  you  all  a  happy  time 

Upon  this   Christmas   day. 
We'll  try  to  help  each  other. 

Do  all  we  can  for  mother; 
Then  Christmas  will  be  merry 

And  our  hearts  be  light  and  gay." 

— Selected. 

The  Poor  at  Christmas. 

Unless  we  remember  the  lowly, 

Whose  pleasures  are  few  and  small. 
We  deserve  not  to  be  included 
In  the  Christmas  joy,  at  all. 
For  it  was  they  whom  the  Christ-Child 
Most  lovingly  sought  to  aid; 
And  he'll  have  the  brightest  Christmas, 
Who  has  some  sacrifice  made ! 

Selected. 

If  the  gifts  you  plan  to  make  need  more  time  than  this  hour,  ar- 
range to  give  a  little  extra  at  some  other  time  or  place.  Perhaps 
groups  could  meet  at  some  of  the  homes  after  school  or  on  Saturdays. 

For  this  busy  hour  the  teachers  are  asked  to  decide  what  to  make. 
A  suggested  list  is  given  from  which  a  choice  may  be  made  of  forms 
suitable  to  the  grade.  For  Christmas  gifts,  colors  and  materials  should 
be  bright  and  pretty. 

Chains  for  decorations  or  Christmas  trees. 

Paper  Flowers. 

Iron  Holders. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  639 

Simple  boxes  made  of  cardboard. 

Spool  work  as  suggested  in  the  August  number  of  The  Chil- 
dren's Friend. 

Stocking  bags. 

Handkerchief  bags. 

Waste  paper  baskets  as  suggested  in  the  February  number  of  The 
Children's  Friend. 

Balls  and  Bean  bags  as  suggested  in  the  July  number  of  The 
Children's  Friend. 

Quilt  Blocks, 

Pin  cushions. 

Book  covers. 

Scrap  Books. 

Dolls  Qothes. 

Picture  Frames. 

Foot  Stools. 

Rag  Rugs. 

Candy. 

Pop  Com. 

LESSON  FORTY-SEVEN. 

The  Story   Hour. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher:  If  desired,  part  of  this  time  may  be 
taken  for  the  completion  of  Christmas  work.  Be  sure  to  review 
the  thought  for  the  month  and  recite  poems  and  memory  gems. 
At  least  one  of  the  stories  used  for  this  hour  should  be  about  Christ- 
mas. A  number  of  Christmas  stories  will  be  printed  in  the 
next  issue  of  The  Children's  Friend  from  which  selections  may 
be  made. 

FIRST  GRADE. 

Stories, 

The  Night  Before  Christmas,  by  Moore;  or  series  of  pictures  il- 
lustrating life  of  Christ  or  Christmas  activities;  or  Preparations  for 
Winter  in  this  issue  of  The  Childern's  Friend. 

SECOND  GRADE. 
Stories. 

Why  The  Chimes  Rang,  by  Alden;  or; 
The  Night  Before  Christmas,  by  Moore ;  and 
Several  Inches,  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's  Friend. 

THIRD  GRADE. 
Stories. 

The  Bird's  Christmas  Carol,  by  Wiggins;  or; 
Why  the  Chimes  Rang,  by  Alden ;  and 
A  Real  Story,  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's  Friend. 


640  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

FOURTH  GRADE. 
Stories. 

The  Spirit  of  Christmas,  by  Henry  Van  Dyke;  or; 
The  First  Christmas,  from  Ben  Hur;  and 

How  David  Brought  The  Supplies,  in  this  issue  of  The  Chil- 
dren's Friend. 

FIFTH  GRADE. 
Stories, 

The  Other  Wise  Man,  by  Henry  Van  Dyke ;  or ; 
A  Christmas  Carol,  by  Dickens ;  and 

The  Tree  That  Preached,  in  this  issue  of  The  Children's 
Friend. 

LESSON  FORTY-EIGHT. 

The   Sociai^   Hour. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher: .  The  subject  for  the  month  is  the 
discipline  of  experience.  The  results  of  the  work  done  in  social  hours 
during  the  year  should  be  manifested  in  these  exercises  which  end  the 
work  of  the  Primary  associations  for  this  year.  The  spirit  of  love  and 
happiness  should  be  combined  with  order  and  respect  for  persons  and 
place.  Consideration  and  courtesy  should  be  expressed  in  every  action 
while  fun  and  joy  abounds  in  every  play,  game  and  dance.  Give  the 
children  a  happy  time  but  be  sure  it  is  the  true  spirit  of  play  which 
does  not  permit  any  roughness,  incivility  or  irreverence. 

Preliminary  Music, 

Prayer,  - 

Games.  "Christmas  Time,"  Swedish  Singing  Games,  by  Bolin^ 
or; 

"Christmas  Wreath"  Old  and  New/Bipging  Games. 

"Good  Morning"  (change  to  ''MerryVpiristmas.")  Games  for  the 
Playground  by  Bancroft,  or;  :  .. 

"Spooning,"  from  same  book.  ' 

"I  See  You,"  or;  ,:, 

"Carrousel"  (around  Christmas  TreeySwedish  Song  Plays  by  Bo- 
lin. 

"Follow  Leader"  (terminating  in  some  Christmas  deed.)  Games 
for  the  Playground  by  Bancroft. 

Dances. 

"Varsouvienne"  (as  taught  in  Primary  Teachers'  Class.) 

Review  favorite  dances  already  learned.  Christmas  songs,  stories, 
and  gems. 

Sin^ifiS[. 
Benediction . 


WINNE-LACKEE  SNATCHED  THE  LITTLE  PHINXESS  IN'  HER  ARMS. 


Vol.  XII.  DECEMBER,  1913.  No.  12, 


LITTLE  PRINCESS  WISLA. 

BY  SOPHIE  SWETT. 

Chapter  XII. — The  Fall  from  the  Ice  Boat. 

What  should  they  do?  Aunt  CeHa  didn't  know  herself!  She  felt, 
as  she  had  done  in  Canada,  that  she  could  not  have  the  Indians  arrested 
because  .she  could  not  bring  any  positive  charge  against  them. 

The  child  herself  said  that  she  was  little  Princess  Wisla ! 

But  her  face  at  the  state-room  window  had  looked  more  than  ever 
like  Peggy  Piper's !  It  had  even  looked  lighter  in  color  than  an  Indian 
child's  face  might  be  expected  to  look. 

The  secret  of  that  was  that  the  pokeberry  stain  had  begun  to  wear 
off  a  little,  although  Winne-Lackee  had  felt  sure  that  it  never  would. 

And  she  could  not  be  stained  over  again  without  knowing*  it ! 

Aunt  Celia  said  she  didn't  see  anything  that  they  could  do ;  but  when 
Dr.  Brooks  came  he  might  think  of  something. 

But  although  they  told  him  all  about  it  and  he  walked  the  floor, 
just  as  Aunt  Celia  had  done,  Dr.  Brooks  could  not  think  what  to  do. 
He  said  it  was  not  at  all  probable  that  the  old  squaw  had  made  Peggy 
Piper  over  into  little  Princess  Wisla!  If  she  had  done  such  a  thing 
she  would  not  dare  to  take  her  about  so  openly.  He  thought  that  no 
child  could  be  made  to  keep  such  a  secret.  And  Betty  confessed  that 
the  little  princess  seemed  to  be  fond  of  her  grandmother. 

It  certainly  was  not  probable  that  the  old  squaw  could  change 
Peggy  Piper  into  Princess  Wisla ;  but,  being  a  wise  man  and  a  doctor, 
he  knew  that  improbable  things  sometimes  happen.  And  although,  like 
Aunt  Celia,  he  feared  to  have  the  Indians  arrested  because  he  could 
not  make  any  positive  charge  against  them,  he  said  that  as  soon  as  they 
returned  to  their  island  he  meant  to  go  up  there  and  see  little  Princess 
Wisla  for  himself. 

When,  a  few  days  later,  Dr.  Brooks  saw  by  a  New  York  paper 
that  old  Winne-Lackee  with  her  granddaughter  and  Dr.  Sockabesin  and 
his  daughter  Minnehaha  had  sailed  for  Europe,  he  felt  at  first  an  im- 
pulse to  cable  to  Mr.  Piper  to  meet  the  steamer  at  Liverpool  and  see 
what  he  thought  of  little  Princess  Wisla ! 

But  they  had  just  heard  that  the  disappointment  caused  by  finding 


644  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

that  it  was  not  Peggy  but  another  Httle  girl,  who  had  been  picked  up 
at  sea  by  the  Norwegian  vessel  had  made  Peggy's  mother  very  ill.  And 
Dr.  Brooks  dreaded  the  effect  on  both  father  and  mother  of  another 
disappointment. 

Besides,  as  the  days  went  by,  he  began  to  feel  that  he  was,  as 
Betty  said,  like  Patty  Plummer  who  believed  in  witches,  to  think  that 
the  old  squaw  possibly  could  turn  Peggy  into  Princess  Wisla ! 

So,  as  soon  as  Phi  was  able  they  went  sadly  home  to  Pollywhoppet 
and  found  Grandpapa  Piper  sitting  every  pleasant  day,  on  the  deck  of 
the  Margaret  Piper,  waiting  for  Peggy  to  come  so  the  vessel  could  be 
launched!  He  expected  her  every  day,  for  old  people  are  as  hopeful 
as  the  children  are  and  as  everyone  ought  to  be,  since  things  are  all 
sure  to  come  right  in  God*s  good  time. 

The  measles  having  come  to  an  end  there  had  been  a  Pollywhoppet 
picnic  at  the  Indian  island. 

But  no  one  up  there  knew  anything  about  Peggy  Piper,  and  Stumpy 
seemed  quite  like  an  Indian  dog,  although  some  of  the  boys  declared  that 
he  tremtled  and  whined  at  the  touch  of  Pollywhoppet  hands. 

As  for  Phi  and  Sidney  they  had  now  no  desire  to  go  to  the  Indian 
island.  Phi  was  trying  to  believe  that  it  was  because  he  had  been  run 
over  and  was  weak  from  the  shock  that  he  had  thought  the  little  Indian 
princess  so  strangely  like  Peggy.  He  said  but  little  about  it — a  boy 
doesn't  like  to  be  told  that  he  is  like  Patty  Plummer  and  believes  '^ 
witches ! 

After  his  father  and  mother  came  home  no  one  was  allowed  to  men- 
tion Peggy's  name  because  Mama  could  not  bear  it — no  one  except 
.Grandpapa  Piper,  who  would  speak  of  the  time  when  Peggy  w^ould 
come  home  and  they  could  have  the  launching. 

Dr.  Brooks  had  inquired  of  the  Indians  when  Winne-Lackee  \^'as 
coming  back  to  the  island  and  they  had  said  they  were  afraid  she  would 
never  come  back.  She  seemed  to  fear  that  the  climate  did  not  agree 
with  her  little  granddaughter. 

Dr.  Brooks  was  almost  convinced,  by  this  time,  that  little  Princess 
Wisla  was  Winne-Lackee's  granddaughter,  and  that  Peggy  Pi|>er  had 
been  drowned  in  the  river. 

Time  went  -on  as  it  does  go  on  whether  people  are  sorry  or  glad, 
and  the  wide  blue  river  was  changed  by  Jack  Frost,  who  certainly  can 
do  almost  as  wonderful  things  as  a  story-book  w^itch,  into  a  beautiful 
ice-field,  where,  after  the  January  thaw  had  come  and  gone,  there  was 
no  snow  and  the  skating  was  perfect.  Snow  shoes  and  toboggans  were 
out  of  fashion  for  the  time  and  all  Pollywhoppet  was  on  skates  or  in 
ice-boats. 

The  Indians  had  a  way  of  rigging  ice-boats  so  they  w^ould  go  like 
the  wind,  and  on  a  beautiful  sunny  Saturday  morning  the  Pollywhoppet 
boys  and  girls  gazed  with  wide-open  eyes  at  one  that  was  almost  a< 
slender  as  a  canoe,  with  sails  set  wing-and-wing.  They  gazed  still  more 
when  they  discovered  little  Princess  Wisla,  seated  upon  a  heap  of  skins 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  645 

and  wrapped  in  ermine  so  that  she  looked  like  a  little  queen  upon  her 
throne ! 

^Jo  Mattawan  and  Tom  Molasses  were  managing  the  ice-boat. 
When  Phi  and  Sidney  made  their  way,  as  fast  as  skates  could  carry 
them  to  the  boat,  the  Indian  boys  were  shaking  their  heads  and  looking 
doubtfully  at  the  sky.  The  wind  was  very  strong.  Old  Winne-Lackee 
had  bidden  them  to  go  no  farther  than  the  Bend,  but  the  sport  had  been 
so  fine  that  they  had  recklessly  allowed  the  wind  to  carry  them  on 
and  on. 

Now  Jo  Mattawan  declared  that  they  must  lower  the  sail  and  draw 
the  boat  all  the  way  to  the  island;  but  Tom  Molasses,  who  was  lazy, 
thought  that  by  "tacking"  they  might  manage,  even  with  the  wind 
against  them,  to  sail  a  part  of  the  way  back. 

There  was  a  quarrel  about  the  taking  down  of  the  sail  in  the  course 
of  which  it  was  allowed  to  swing  around  smartly.  And  that  happened 
at  just  the  moment  when  Princess  Wisla  caught  sight  of  Betty  Brooks 
and  leaned  over  the  side  of  the  boat,  holding  out  both  hands  to  her. 

Princess  Wisla  was  knocked  out  of  the  boat  and  fell  face  down- 
wards upon  a  skated  foot  that  a  boy  was  holding  with  uplifted  toe 
while  he  ground  the  heel  into  the  ice. 

It  was  a  sharp  blow,  and  the  little  princess  was  unconscious  when 
they  picked  her  up  and  carried  her  to  the  nearest  house — which  was  only 
across  the  ship  yard  and  over  the  orchard  slope  to  Peggy  Piper's  own 
dear  old  home ! 

Phi  led  the  way.  They  laid  the  little  Indian  princess  on  Peggy's 
own  bed,  and  when  she  came  io  herself  there  was  a  dear  mother- face, 
bending  over  her  and  a  voice  cried  out,  *'Oh,  what  does  it  mean  that  the 
httle  Indian  girl  looks  so  much  like  my  own  little  Peggy." 

The  little  princess  raised  her  head  from  the  pillow.  ''I — I  want 
Joe  Mattawan  and  Tom  Molasses!"  she  said  slowly.  "Did  I  fall  off 
the  ice-boat?  Will  you  take  me  home  to  my  grandmother?  She  is 
Winne-Lackee,  and  I  am  Princess  Wisla." 

Dr.  Brooks  looked  carefully  at  a  scar  on  the  princess'  head,  draw- 
ing the  soft  dark  hair  away  from  it.  Then  he  went  to  the  other  side  of 
the  room  and  talked  softly  to  Papa  Piper  whom  Mama  Piper  had  sent 
for  to  see  the  little  Indian  girl. 

Dr.  Brooks  said  the  little  Indian  girl  had  been  hurt  sometime  upon 
the  head  in  such  a  way  that  it  might  have  caused  a  loss  of  memory. 
There  might  be  a  bone  pressing  upon  a  certain  part  of  her  brain.  A 
surgeon  ou^ht  to  be  sent  for. 

They  tried  to  take  Mama  Piper  away  from  the  bedside  because  she 
was  growing  so  excited.  Her  hot  tears  had  fallen  upon  the  little  dark 
face  and  in  the  same  place  where  they  had  used  warm  water  and  a 
soothing  wash  to  take  the  blood  from  the  cut.  And  there  was  a  light 
streak  showing  through  the  pokeberry  stain. 

"Oh.  I  believe  she  is  my  own  little  Pegg>',  although  she  doesn't 
know  me !"  cried  poor  Mama  Piper. 


646  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

Just  at  that  moment  old  Winne-Lackee  rushed  into  the  room.  Xo 
one  had  been  able  to  keep  her  out.  She  had  been  anxious,  because  the 
boys  kept  Princess  Wisla  out  so  long,  and  so  had  come  flying  down  the 
river  on  another  ice-boat  which  she  managed  all  by  herself. 

She  was  wrapped  in  a  great  sealskin  blanket  and  wore  a  sealskin 
cap,  beneath  which  her  long  gray  hair  blew  wildly. 

She  snatched  the  little  princess  in  her  arms,  and  her  fierce  Indian 
face  broke  into  a  smile. 

."She  is  not  much  hurt — Winne-Lackee's  little  Medwisla  !'*  she  said 
tenderly.  She  looked  around  the  room  and  they  could  see  her  strong 
frame  tremble. 

"Winne-Lackee  thanks  you  all  for  care  you  take  of  little  Princess 
Wisla!"  she  said.  She  spoke  with  great  dignity,  but  she  could  not  keep 
her  voice  from  shaking. 

"Where  did  you  get  the  child?"  demanded  Dr.  Brooks. 

J*apa  Piper  stepped  past  Winne-Lackee  and  out  at  the  door.  He 
meant  to  prevent  her  from  leaving  the  house  with  the  child ! 

"Winne-Lackee's  husband's  son's  child — born  far  out  on  Western 
prairies,"  she  answered  quickly.  "Her  father  and  grandfather  both 
great  chiefs — " 

Then  the  old  squaw  seemed  to  think  all  at  once  what  might  hap- 
pen. She  rushed  out  of  the  room,  passed  Papa  Piper  on  the  stairs,  and 
was  out  at  the  door  before  he  could  stop  her. 

Dr.  Brooks  held  Peggy's  father  back  when  he  would  have  rushed 
out  after  her. 

"It  is  a  matter  for  the  law,"  he  said,  "and  we  may  liave  a  hard  fight 
to  get  possession  of  the  child !  We  must  set  a  watch  upon  the  Indian 
woman  and  not  allow  her  to  leave  the  island  with  the  child  again." 

They  talked  possibilities  over  hastily,  trying  at  the  same  time  to 
comfort  Peggy's  mother  who  held  the  child's  wraps  that  had  been  left 
behind  and  would  not  let  them  go  out  of  her  hands. 

Phi  and  Sidney  Brooks  were  running  after  old  Winne-Lackee. 

Suddenly,  before  she  had  been  gone  half  an  hour,  old  Winne- 
Lackee  rushed  into  the  Piper  house  again,  and  set  little  Princess  Wisla 
down  in  Mama  Piper's  lap. 

"Winne-Lackee  not  bring  the  princess  back  because  she  fear !"  she 
said,  with  her  head  held  high.  "Old  squaw  fear  nothing! — except  to 
dream  always  of  the  white  mother's  face !  Now  she  has  seen  the  face 
she  give  back  the  child!  Old  squaw  save  her  from  the  river.  The 
child  hurt  her  head  when  she  went  down  and  she  never  remember!  But 
the  child  want  to  be  little  white  girl,  and  she  never  love  Winne-I--ackee ! 
When  vou  want  to  send  Winne-Lackee  to  prison  you  find  her  on  the 
island !" 

"A  child-stealer  deserves  anything — everything!"  cried  Dr.  Brooks 
almost  fiercely,  and  both  he  and  Papa  Piper  would  have  kept  the  old 
squaw  to  be  sentenced  to  prison. 

But  Mama  Piper  begged  them  to  let  her  go.     "She  saved  Peggv^s 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  (A7 

life  and  she  brought  her  back  to  me !''  she  said.     *'And  she  loved  her !" 

After  an  opiate  had  softly  stolen  Peggy's  sense  of  pain  away  a 
surgeon  removed  the  bit  of  broken  bone  that  had  made  her  forget. 

When  she  came  back  to  herself,  after  all  was  over,  the  very  first 
thing  Peggy  said  was  this : 

'*It  was  my  hair  ribbon  that  I  tried  to  reach  with  the  oar.  The 
water  was  so  cold — and  I  went  down,  down!  Who  took  me  out?  Oh, 
it  must  be  tomorrow,  now,  and  isn't  it  time  for  the  launching?" 

She  was  Peggy  Piper  again!  And  when  it  was  time  for  the 
launching,  on  a  beautiful  May  day,  she  was  as  strong  and  well  and  as 
ivhite  as  ever. 

I  only  wish  there  were  space  to  tell  you  what  a  day  that  day  was 
for  all  Pollywhoppet,  especially  for  Grandpa  in  the  fulfilment  of  his 
child-like  hope ;  for  true-hearted  Phi,  for  Betty  Brooks,  whose  bound- 
ing heart  had  quite  forgotten  its  "Peggy  ache,"  ^for  Papa  Piper  who 
had  grown  suddenly  young,  for  Mama  Piper — ^but  what  Mama  Piper 
felt  is  too  great  a  thing  to  tell.  Even  old  Winne-Lackee  had  under- 
stood that  mother-love  is  the  greatest  thing  in  the  world. 

And  Stumpy — who  had  been  brought  home  to  Peggy  by  Tom 
Molasses,  seemed  to  come  so  near  to  wagging  his*  tail  off  that  Betty 
Brooks  said  she  was  really  anxious  about  him! 

Peggy  had  forgotten  every  bit  about  being  little  Princess  Wisla,  as 
once  she  had  forgotten  about  being  Peggy  Piper. 

Winne-Lackee  disappeared  from  her  island.  No  one  knew  where 
she  went.  But  now  and  then  beautiful  presents  come  to  Peggy  with 
no  sign  to  show  where  they  co;ne  from  or  who  sends  them  except,  on 
the  inside  wrapping,  the  direction : 

"To  little  Princess  Wisla." 

'*It  is  so  queer,"  says  Peggy  Piper,  with  a  puzzled  look  in  her  eyes 
— "so  awfully  queer  that  little  Princess  Wisla  means  mcT 


ON  THE  MAIN  LINE. 

The  city's  streets  were  thronged.  Crowds  of  Christmas  shoppers 
hurried  to  and  fro.  Electric  lights  from  the  big  stores  shone  on  their 
rosy  and  happy  faces,  and  the  younger  ones  laughingly  shook  the  snow 
from  their  hair  and  capes.  Charlie  Wemper  noted  all  this  as,  with 
his  hand  on  the  controller,  he  held  the  big  suburban  car  in  check.  It 
was  crowded  to  the  doors  as  it  started  on  its  trip  into  the  country  with 
its  human  freight.  The  passengers  were  in  a  merry  mood.  They,  had 
remained  until  the  last  car  and  were  going  to  their  homes  on  the  line, 
Avith  their  arms  full  of  bundles  and  their  hearts  filled  with  good  cheer. 

All  this  swept  through  the  brain  of  the  tired  motorman.  and  there 
Avas  no  answering  smile  as  gay  laughter  reached  him  through  the  closed 
doors  of  the  vestibule.  Here  it  was  Christmas  eve.  He  had  had  fairly 
st':'ady  runs  up  to  the  time  the  summer  business  began  to  slack  off,  when 


648  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

the  time-table  changed  and  he  went  on  the  board  as  first  extra.  A  wife 
and  two  little  ones  at  home  had  to  be  fed  and  clothed,  and  his  twenty 
cents  an  hour,  with  an  average  of  six  hours  a  day,  had  not  placed  him 
in  a  position  of  affluence,  nor  enabled  him  to  look  forward  to  the  glad 
Christmas  time  with  any  degree  of  joy.  He  thought  of  the  scant  supply 
of  coal  in  the  shed,  the  almost  depleted  larder,  an  empty  purse,  with 
pay  day  still  more  than  a  week  off,  and  sighed  to  himself. 

"Eight  dollars  and  a  half  coming  to  me,"  he  said,  as  he  almost 
^  savagely  swung  around  to  six  points.  .  The  car  felt  the  current  and 
sprang  forward  along  the  shining  ribbons  of  steel  which  showed  up  in 
the  glow  of  the  headlight  in  the  endless  stretch  of  the  white  ahead. 

The  city  had  been  left  behind  and  the  farm  houses  quickly  slid  back 
into  the  shadows  as  the  car  sped  by.  The  shining  rails  no  longer 
showed  up  ahead.  It  was  all  a  dead  level  of  white.  The  swiftly-falling 
snow  had  covered  with  its  mantle  the  rails  of  the  line,  but  the  wheels 
still  sunk  through  it  and  clutching  the  rail  drank  in  the  electric  fluid. 
Thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  road,  and  with  the  car  under  perfect 
control,  Wemper,  one  of  the  most  careful,  but  also  one  of  the  newest 
men  on  the  road,  h^d  no  misgivings  as  he  sped  along  the  snow-covered 
way. 

Suddenly  ahead  there  was  a  bluish  light  which  seemed  to  dance  in 
the  air.  ** What's  this?"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  sprang  from  his  seat  white 
as  the  driven  snow  which  surrounded  the  car.  He  shut  off  the  current 
and  put  on  the  air  with  such  force  as  to  bring  the  car  almost  to  a  stand- 
still, and  throw  the  passengers  from  their  seats.  Quickly  the  controller 
swung  around  and  the  car  slowly  started  to  move  backward.  To  the 
man  in  the  vestibule  it  seemed  an  age  before  the  wheels  began  to  revolve 
backward.  The  car  was  on  a  long  but  abrupt  curve.  Wemper  knew 
what  the  bluish  light  meant.  It  was  an  inbound  car  coming  toward  him 
at  full  speed. 

What  caused  the  mixup  Wemper  did  not  know,  but  he  did  know 
that  to  be  caught  on  that  curve  meant  certain  death  to  himself  and  the 
sixty  odd  passengers  on  the  car.  The  headlight  of  the  approaching 
car  now  loomed  into  view.  It  was  coming  at  breakneck  speed,  but 
Wemper's  car  with  its  load  of  human  beings  was  now  also  speeding 
backwards.  There  had  been  no  order  at  the  last  telephone  booth  and 
the  out-lx)und  car  was  supposed  to  have  a  clear  track.  Whatever  the 
error,  it  was  a  palpable  fact  that  the  coming  car  was  upon  him.  There 
seemed  to  be  no  effort  on  the  part  of  the  man  in  the  other  vestibule  to 
attempt  to  check  the  speed  and  the  most  Wemper  could  hope  to  do  was 
to  lessen  the  force  of  the  collision.  On  came  the  opposite  car  until  lesb 
than  100  feet  off.  It  was  one  of  the  newest  and  most  powerful  on  the 
road  and  Wemper's  heart  dropped  as  he  realized  the  fact.  The  pas- 
sengers by  this  time  had  ascertained  they  were  speeding  backward,  and 
the  conductor  had  his  hands  full  striving  to  check  the  panic. 

Looking  now  right  into  the  vestibule  of  the  opposing  car,  Wemper 
saw  a  livid  face  with  glaring  eyes.     One  strong,  bony  hand  clutched  the 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  649 

controller,  trying  to  force  it  still  further  around  to  get  more  speed. 
There  was  a  terrible  smile  on  the  white  face.     The  man  was  mad. 

A  cold  sweat  broke,  out  on  the  forehead  of  Wemper.  A  cottage 
within  which  sat  a  woman  smoothing  the  hair  of  a  little  boy  while  her 
body  swayed  gently  to  and  fro  as  she  lulled  the  baby  to  sleep,  came 
before  his  vision.  Who  would  fill  the  empty  larder  now?  Who  re- 
plenish the  dwindling  coal  pile?  A  groan  burst  from  him  as  they, 
pursuer  and  pursued,  sped  by  the  power  station  and  back  over  the  switch. 
There  was  no  danger  from  behind  and  they  dashed  on  back  into  dark- 
ness, leaving  the  sub-station  keeper  rooted  to  the  spot  with  astonishment. 
The  fatal  race  was  drawing  to  a  close.  Not  ten  feet  now  intervened 
between  the  headlights  of  the  two  cars  when  suddenly  there  was  pitch 
darkness.  The  speed  of  the  cars  slackened  and  the  wild  in-bound  gently 
came  upon  the  special.  There  was  a  crashing  of  glass  as  the  two  head- 
lights, now  dull  and  dark,  came  together,  a  slight  jar  and  the  danger 
was  passed.  The  sub-station  tender  with  a  heaven-born  gleam  of  com- 
mon sense  had  stopped  the  machinery  and  turned  oflf  the  power. 

Springing  from  the  vestibule  as  soon  as  he  realized  what  had  hap- 
pened Wemper  climbed  into  the  vestibule  of  the  other  car,  livid  with 
rage  at  the  danger  into  which  the  other  motorman  had  placed  him. 
There  was  no  need  for  his  anger,  for  it  was  a  dead  hand  that  held  the 
controller,  and  the  stare  was  one  of  combined  madness  and  death.  Not 
a  living  soul  was  on  the  in-bound  car.  Turning  off  the  current,  Wemper 
took  the  controller  from  the  stiffening  fingers  and  ran  back  to  the  sub- 
station, about  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  and  the  power  was  once  more 
turned  on. 

During  his  absence  the  truth  was  discovered  and  when  he  came 
back  to  the  well-lighted  and  comparatively  uninjured  car,  a  cheer  went 
up.  The  men  passengers  grabbed  him  by  the  hand,  while  the  women 
shed  tears  of  gratitude.  His  own  eyes  moistened  and  a  lump  came  in 
his  throat  as  he  thought  of  the  cottage  and  its  occupants. 

Coupling  the  two  cars  the  journey  was  resumed  and  the  passen- 
gers  began  to  get  off.  As  they  did  so  every  one  dropped  something  in 
a  hat  at  the  door.  When  the  end  of  the  run  was  reached,  a  man  came 
forward.  In  his  hand  he  held  a  hat  which  was  stuffed  full  of  bills  and 
silver.  Taking  a  slip  of  paper  from  his  pocket  the  passenger  folded  it 
and  turned  it,  with  the  other  contents  of  the  hat,  into  the  cap  of  the 
astonished  Wemper. 

"Take  this  with  a  Merry  Christmas  and  a  God  bless  you  from  the 
passengers  you  saved  from  death,'*  he  said,  and  then  left  the  car. 

His  eyes  glistening.  Wemper  counted  the  treasure.  There  was 
over  a  hundred  dollars  in  money.  The  slip  of  paper  was  the  check  of 
a  prominent  banker  of  the  town  at  the  end  of  the  line  for  $100. 

"A  Christmas  for  the  wee  ones,  after  all,"  exclaimed  Wemper,  his 
face  lighting  up.  '*Here,  Bill,"  he  shouted  to  the  conductor.  "We  go 
whacks  on  the  cash." 

Bill  was  loth  to  accept,  but  finally  consented,  and  there  were  two 
merrv  Christmases  on  the  Main  Line. — Selected. 


"Come  here,  fohnny — now  stand  perfectly  stilir 

JOHNNY'S  CHRISTMAS  IROUSERS. 

(TAc  True  Story  of  a  Famous  Poefs  First  Pair.) 

BY    MINNIE   A.    MITCHELL. 

Part  I. 

"Johnny — Johnny  Lee !" 

Now  Mrs.  Sharp,  Johnny's  mother,  did  not  call  him  "Johnny  Lee." 
in  reality:  but  she  shall  here,  and  so  will  we  though  his  name  was  not 
"Johnny  Lee"  by  any  means. 

In  from  the  woodshed  dashed  a!l  three  of  Mrs.  Sharp's  children, 
falling  over  each  other  in  their  haste  to  reach  her  side,  for  they  knew 
their  mother's  call  meant  that  Johnny's  trousers  were  done — his  first 
pair,  of  which  they  had  lived  in  eager  anticipation  ever  since  early  fall 
—and  now  Christmas  was  nearly  dnc! 

Johnny's  dresses  had  been  simply  hatefnl  to  him  for  the  last  year, 
and  the  title  of  "Sissy."  given  him  by  the  boys  on  the  street,  seemed 
likely  to  fasten  on  him  for  life,  in  company  with  a  sullen  disposition,  all 
on  account  of  these  same  gingham  and  flannel  dresses.  The  change  to 
boys'  clothes  had  been  delayed  for  several  reasons,  the  chief  one  beingr 
that  Father's  coat  could  not  be  spared  to  cut  up  until  after  the  corn  was 
husked.  Another  reason  was  that  Johnny's  mother  had  dreaded  to 
begin  on  a  job  so  complicated  as  the  making  of  a  pair  of  trousers — 
work  of  which  she  hadn't  the  slightest  knowledge;  for  Johnny  Lee  was 
the  only  boy  in  the  family. 

The  three  children  eagerly  examined  the  wonderful  garment.  "Are 
thev  all  done.  Mammy?"  Hannah  asked. 


THE  ClULDRliiVS  rRIEND.  651 

"Goodness  knows  I  hope  so !"  said  Mrs.  Sharp,  as  she  unfastened 
Johnny's  flannel  dress.  ''But  I  guess,"  she  added,  as  she  buttoned 
on  the  little  trousers,  "they  won't  ever  be  taken  for  store  pants !  Walk 
over  to  the  window,  Johnny — there,  stop  right  there.  Hannah,  don't 
you  think  the  left  leg  seems  a  little  the  longest?  Come  here,  Johnny — 
now  stand  perfectly  still — don't  twist  about !  There,  that's  better — don't 
you  think  so,  Hannah?"  she  asked,  as  she  pinned  a  small  pleat  near 
the  waistband.  "I  had  to  cut  this  leg  almost  on  the  bias  to  get  it  out 
at  all — Father  had  worn  two  holes  through  right  close  up  to  the  sleeve, 
so  I  couldn't  lay  the  pattern  on  straight — but  I  guess  they'll  do." 

The  little  coat  was  next  tried  on.  It  was  none  the  less  precious  be- 
cause it  was,  in  one  sense,  "ready-made,"  having  already  served  Mamie 
as  a  jacket  for  two  winters ;  now  the  white  ruffles  had  been  ripped  from 
the  sleeves,  and  the  buttons  had  been  changed  for  those  on  Father's 
old  coat,  so  that  it  looked  quite  mannish. 

Up  and  down  the  kitchen  little  Johnny  patiently  walked,  wherever 
he  was  bidden,,  followed  about  by  Hannah  and  Mamie  until  their  mother 
suddenly  remembered  that  the  night-chores  hadn't  been  done,  where- 
upon both  the  girls  disappeared  into  the  woodshed. 

Thus  set  at  liberty,  his  mother  having  gone  into  the  pantry,  Johnny 
stopped  short  in  his  march,  and  his  little  hands  went  down  to  his  sides. 
A  blank  look  overspread  his  face.  It  was  as  he  had  feared — there  were 
no  pockets  in  his  trousers. 

"I'll  be  out  in  just  a  second  to  unbutton  you,"  called  his  mother. 

With  a  sick  feeling  at  his  little  heart,  Johnny  stood  where  he  was 
for  a  moment,  then  went  into  the  woodshed.  He  met  his  sisters  at  the 
door,  each  with  an  armful  of  wood.  It  was  his  part  of  the  night-chores 
to  split  the  kindlings  and  fill  the  chip  basket. 

But  Johnny  didn't  begin  on  the  kindlings  right  oflF.  He  sat  down  on 
the  splitting  log.  "What  d'  I  care  for  pants  without  no  pockets  in  'em !" 
the  little  fellow  groaned,  his  childish  forehead  cold  and  wet  with  the 
sweat  of  his  trouble. 

At  his  feet  lay  the  new  splitting  ax  his  father  had  bought  the  day 
before.  His  eyes  were  fastened  on  it  without  seeming  to  see  it.  But 
all  at  once  Johnny  got  up.  A  grim  expression  had  come  on  his  little 
face.  He  stepped  cautiously  to  the  door  which  led  into  the  kitchen 
and  made  sure  it  was  closed.  The  air  was  freezing  cold,  but  this  did 
not  daunt  him.  He  tugged  and  twisted  at  the  buttons  till  he  got  the 
new  trousers  oflF,  then  folded  them  and  smoothed  them  out  on  the 
splitting  log. 

Standing  there  with  his  little  legs  bare  he  seized  the  new  ax,  his 
blue  eyes  glittering  black  with  his  determination,  raised  it  above  his 
head,  and  taking  aim  brought  it  down  with  a  thud. 

Then,  flinging  it  down,  Johnny  lifted  his  trousers  and  unfolded 
them — and,  lo,  there  were  some  beautiful  pocket  holes! 

The.  lamp  was  lighted  and  the  tea-table  set.  when  Johnny  went 
h^ck  into  the  kitchen.     He  piaced  his  basket  of  kindlings  behind  the 


652  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

kitchen  stove,  and  sat  down  himself  on  the  end  of  the  wood-box. 

"Do  your  pants  feel  all  right,  Johnny-boy?"   his  mother  asked 
lovingly,  as  she  slipped  the  biscuits  into  the  oven. 
,   "Yes,  Mother."     Johnny  replied. 

"You  can  keep  them  on,"  said  Mrs.  Sharp,  "if  you'll  be  careful,  till 
Father  comes,  so  that — " 

"He's  coming  now!"  called  out  Mamie,  at  the  window.  "Stand 
up,  Johnny,  quick!" 

Poor  Johnny  only  clung  tighter  to  the  wood-box,  but  his  sisters 
had  him  on  his  feet  by  the  time  his  father  entered ;  and  then,  before  an 
admiring  word  could  be  spoken,  Mamie  gave  a  scream  that  struck 
through  poor  Johnny's  soul. 

"Why,  Johnny  Lee  Sharp !"  she  cried.  "What  Itave  you  done  to 
your  new  trousers!    Mother!  Mother!" 

Instinctively  poor  little  Johnny  Lee  Sharp  sought  to  cover  himself 
with  his  open  palms — but  it  was  the  rear  of  his  trousers  that  was  at- 
tracting the  family  attention,  for  Hannah  had  seized  him  and  turned 
him  around — and  there  gaped  two  glaring  holes!  The  next  instant 
his  hands  were  torn  away,  revealing  two  corresponding  holes  in  front. 

It  was  all  over  now  with  Johnny ;  anything  could  happen  from  a 
whipping  to  being  sent  up  to  bed.  But  something  more  terrible  than 
either  happened,  for  without  a  word  his  mother  took  off  his  trousers 
and  holding  them  up  removed  the  pins  which  roughly  held  two  empty 
salt  bags  in  place  with  their  contents  of  strings  and  marbles!  And 
then  poor  Johnny  was  once  more  clothed  in  the  familiar  flannel  dress. 

Through  it  all  he  had  not  shed  a  tear  or  uttered  a  word.  The  little 
feillow  was  too  outraged  for  that!  But  now,  suddenly  he  cried  out. 
scowling  from  behind  the  stove  on  the  whole  family  circle. 

"There  isn't  a  boy  in  the  whole  world,"  shouted  he,  "wivoui 
a  pocket  in  his  pants !"  And  then,  also  suddenly,  he  remembered  that 
since  it  was  so  near  Christmas  Santa  Claus  might  be  listening  around, 
and  he  cried  out  again,  determined  on  being  as  wicked  as  he  could,  "I 
don't  care  for  your  old  Santa  Claus !"  And  then  he  went  on  to  revile 
Santa  Claus.  "He  isn't  such  a  much ;  he  doesn't  bring  nuffin  but  ol' 
apples,  and  ol'  rag  dolls,  an'  dry  old  doughnuts — I  don't  want  a  doll— 
I  isn't  a  girl !" 

And  here  Johnny  looked  down  on  his  flannel  dress,  his  wrath  in- 
creasing toward  the  monarch  of  Christmas. 

"I  don't  believe  ther^  is  a  Santa !"  he  shouted.  "Tommy  Moore  told 
me  there  isn't.  Tommy  Moore's  got  three  pockets  in  his  pants! 
Mammy  makes  the  doughnuts  her  own  self!"  And  then,  catching 
Mamie's  eye,  Johnny's  childish  features  drew  into  a  dreadful  grimace, 
and  at  this  wicked  sight  of  their  dear  little  Johnny,  Mamie  be^n 
to  cry,  whereupon  the  little  fellow  in  the  flannel  dress  stamped  away 
up  stairs  making  all  the  noise  he  could. 

By  and  by  when  his  sisters  came  up,  Johnny  found  it  was  his  ni^ht 
to  sleep  in  the  middle,  between  Hannah  and  Mamie,  and  he  declared 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  653 

*  ■ 

he  was  being  crowded',  and  poked  his  feet  out  from  under  the  covers 
to  cool  them,  until  at  last,  hoplessly,  his  sisters  turned  over,  leaving 
him  to  be  as  wicked  as  he  liked ;  and  for  some  time  Johnny  lay  with  both 
his  little  feet  out  of  bed,  every  now  and  then  raising  the  coverlets  to 
let  in  the  cold  air  upon  his  sisters — the  unhappiest  little  boy  in  the 
world ! 

I 

PART  II. 

Johnny  was  beginning  to  feel  sleepy,  when  the  door  into  the  next 
room  opened  softly  and  two  little  men  dressed  in  furs  from  head  to  foot 
jumped  up  on  the  bed  and  beckoned  to  him. 

"What  you  want?*'    asked  Johnny  savagely. 

*'We  wish  you  to  come  up  to  the  North  Pole,"  they  answered 
politely*     "Mr.  Santa  has  sent  for  you." 

Johnny  at  once  raised  up  in  bed,  and  before  he  knew  it  was  stand- 
ing out  on  the  floor.  "Now  I'll  just  see  if  there  is  a  Santa  Claus/' 
said  he  to  himself. 

"You  will  please  get  into  these  fur  overalls,"  said  one  of  the  little 
men,  while  the  other  little  man  tied  a  peaked  hood  under  Johnny's 
chubby  chin. 

Then  they  whisked  him  through  the  door,  out  into  the  street, 
and  tucked  him  into  a  tiny  sleigh  which  stood  there  in  waiting,  hitched 
to  four  reindeer.  The  next  moment  Johnny  was  racing  through  space 
alongside  the  moon. 

Suddenly  the  sleigh  stopped  ])eside  a  long  building,  gnd  the  driver 
pointed  Johnny  to  an  open  door.    "Go  in,"  said  he,  "Santa  is  waiting." 

Johnny  went  in :  and  there,  wearing  enormous  overalls  stood 
Santa  Claus  himself — frying  doughnuts  in  an  iron  kettle  such  as  liis 
rrr  tlier  used  in  making  soap.  All  around  him  were  stacks  of  the 
finished  cakes — the  sight  and  smell  of  which  made  the  little  hoy 
hungry. 

"Gee.  what  a  lot!"  he  exclaimed  in  such  a  joyful  voice  that  Santa 
turned   ^\v\   eved  him. 

"Well.  Johnny  Lee  Sharp,  it's  you.  is  it?"  said  he.  "You  came  in 
a  hurry,  didn't  you?  I'm  much  obliged.  I  need  a  pocket  cutter  in  my 
trousers  factory  right  off;  when  T  saw  the  fine  ones  you  cut  in  your 
own  trousers  I  sent  for  you  at  once ;  but  I'm  sorry  you  made  faces 
at  your  sifter  and  have  lost  faith  in  me !  Yet  I  agree  with  you,  Johnny, 
that  evey  bov  should  have  pockets  in  his  clothes. 

Laying  down  his  fork  Santa  took  Johnny  by  the  hand  and  led  him 
through  room  after  room  where  Christmas  work  was  going  on,  all  very 
interesting;  but  when  the  trousers  factory  was  reached  the  little  fellow 
in  the  fur  overalls  thrilled  with  wonder,  for  never  in  his  life  had  he 
seen  such  an  array  of  little  trousers. 

''There's  a  pair  for  every  little  boy  in  the  world,  isn't  there!"  he 
w'hispered.  almost  bursting  with  delight. 


654  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

*There  was/'  Santa  replied,  placing  his  hand  lovingly  on  the  head 
of  his  little  visitor. 

Santa  didn't  explain,  but  led  him  up  to  a  smooth  block,  and  placed 
a  bright  new  ax  in  his  hand.  Johnny  took  off  his  hood  at  once  and 
began  chopping  holes  for  pockets ;  and  what  a  lot  there  were !  Dozens 
of  little  men  carried  the  trousers  away  in  piles  to  have  the  pockets  set 
in  as  fast  as  Johnny  had  them  ready. 

"Can't  I  rest  a  little?'*  he  asked,  after  he  had  chopped  a  long 
time. 

"If  you  do,"  said  the  superintendent,  "we  won't  get  several 
trousers  done  for  Christmas.  Be  a  little  more  careful  if  you  can — 
you've  cut  the  pockets  in  the  knees  of  the  last  three  pair !" 

Just  as  it  began  to  grow  dark  the  last  pair  of  trousers  were 
chopped,  and  Johnny  dropped  his  ax  and  wiped  his  forehead. 

At  that  moment  Santa  came  in  with  a  gay  yellow  dress  and  laid 
it  down  on  the  chopping  block. 

"Who  is  that  for?"  cried  Johnny  frantically,  but  no  one  answered, 
for  all  were  attending  to  Santa  Claus'  packing  orders 

"Your  sack,"  said  Santa,  addressing  a  man  near  him,  "goes  to  Mr. 
Brown's  children  in  Raysville;  give  each  child  two  apples  and  two 
doughnuts,  a  rag  doll  for  the  girl,  and  trousers  all  around  for  the  boys." 

Johnny's  eyes  and  ears  were  opened.  Johnny  lived  in  Raysville. 
Mr.  Brown  was  their  next-door  neighbor. 

Then  his  father's  name  was  called.  "Give  each  of  the  Sharp 
children,'*  said  Santa,  "apples  and  doughnuts;  put  in  also  china  dolls 
for  the  girls,  for  they  are  very  good  children.  I'm  sorry  to  not  send 
the  trousers  we  made  for  the  boy,  but  he  has  been  naughty  of  late — 
therefore  I  must  send  him  that  yellow  dress  instead.    Fm  sorry,  for — " 

Santa's  speech  was  left  unfinished  for  Johnny  sprang  forward 
and  was  crying  out,  "Don't  put  in  the  yellow  dress.  Santa!  please 
don't !"  when  some  one  shook  him  by  the  shoulder,  very  gently.  "Wake 
up,  children — breakfast  is  ready,"  said  Mrs.  Sharp. 

Johnny  felt  queer  to  find  himself  at  home  as  usual,  but  he 
hurried  down  into  the  warm  kitchen,  in  his  shirt,  his  little  flannel  dress 
on  his  arm. 

"Johnny."  said  his  mother,  taking  the  dress  from  his  hands,  "I 
mended  vour  pants  last  night,  and  you  can  put  them  right  on  and  wear 
them.  You  will  never  wear  dresses  again,  my  Johnny-boy !"  She  held 
up  the  trousers  with  four  rough  scars  where  the  holes  had  been.  "Ill 
sew  some  pockets  in  tonight — I  clean  forgot  them!"  she  added. 

This  might  have  comforted  Johnnv  somewhat — ^he  did  love  his 
mother  for  it — if  he  had  not  know  that  Santa  Claus  was  going  to  brin^ 
him  that  yellow  dress! 

Manv  schemes  came  into  Johnnv's  mind,  and  finallv  he  resolved 
to  get  Willy  Smith  to  write  ^  letter  for  him  to  Santa  Claus. 

Johnnv  went  over  to  Willv's  after  breakfast,  and  told  him  the 
whole  storv  out  in  the  back  vard. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  655     . 

Willy  looked  thoughtful.  "Of  course  I'll  do  it/'  said  he.  "I  rec- 
kon you  didn't  dream  it,  did  you?" 

Johnny  declared  it  was  no  dream.  *■" 

So  Willy  wrote  as  moving  a  letter  as  he  could.  ■ 

"Dear  Santa  Claus,"  it  ran,  "ever  since  Johnny  Lee  Sharp  was  up 
to  your  house  he  has  been  worried.  He  told  me  he  cried  three  times 
since  breakfast  'bout  that  yeller  dress.  He  said  if  you  don't  bring  it 
he'd  let  you  have  all  his  marbles  to  give  to  poor  children.  If  you  knowd 
how  a  fellow'd  feel  in  a  dress  you  wouldn't  ask  him  to.  He's  sorry  he 
ever  said  you  wasn't  a  Santy  Claus,  cause  now  he  knows  you  are  for 
sure.  He's  so  worrit,  he  says  he  wish  they  wasn't  no  crismus  this 
year  'cause  then  you  couldn't  bring  that  dress ! 

Yours  truly,  William  Alexander  Smith." 

Nothing  was  heard  from  Santa  however,  and  Johnny  grew  gloomy. 
He  told  Willy  that  Santa  Claus  was  a  very  nice  man,  but  if  he'd  made 
up  his  mind  to  bring  that  yellow  dress,  he'd  bring  it ! 

At  last  Christmas  Eve  arrived.  The  Sharp  children  hung  up  their 
stockings   and   retired   early. 

Toward  morning  something  wakened  Johnny  and  he  raised  his 
little  red  head  and  looked  about.  The  stairway  door  into  the  kitchen 
was  open,  and  the  lamp  shone  in.  Johnny  was  seized  with  a  desire  to 
see  if  Santa  had  been  there  yet,  and  finally  he  crept  down  into  the 
kitchen  and  up  to  the  row  of  stockings  where  he  found  a  little  dress 
hanging  beside  them.  He  took  the  dress  down  and  carried  it  to  the 
light  and  looked  at  it  closely. 

"Yes,  sir,  it's  the  one — it's  yellow!"  he  muttered,  and  his  face 
flushed  angrily.  "I  didn't  think  he'd  be  so  mean!  But  I  won't  wear 
it— I  won't!" 

Johnny  sat  down  and  drew  on  his  stockings,  pinned  his  rhother's 
shawl  on  his  head  and  takin.c:  the  dress  he  stole  out  into  the  woodshed. 
Over  by  the  splitting-log.  lay  crouched  a  dragon  with  forty  heads 
and  forty  eyes  all  winking  at  once.  Johnny  had' intended  to  stuff  the 
dress  under  the  log,  but  he  threw  it  into  the  ash  barrel  and  reached 
the  kitchen  door  again  just  in  time  to  shut  it  against  the  dragon  now 
close  at  his  heels. 

Christmas  morning  the  Sharp  household  was  early  astir,  all  save 
Johnny  Lee  who  staid  in  bed.  seized  with  a  fear  that  Santa's,  eyes 
might  have  been  upon  him.  and  that  he  might  have  restored  the  yellow 
dress  to  its  nail. 

A  sudden  cr>^  from  Hannah  brought  him  bounding  down  into  the 
warm  kitchen.  "Oh,  Tohnnv  Lee!  see  the  lovely  pants  Santa  has 
brought  vou :  a  new  pair  with  three  nice  pockets !" 

"An'  thev  isn't  a  yellow  dress  there,   Hannah?" 

Johnny's  own  eyes  assured  him  there  wasn't.  "Santa  was  just 
a-fooling!"  he  shouted  joyfully,  taking  the  new  trousers. 

But  Johnny's  pleasure  vanished  the  very  next  minute.  Little 
Mamie  had  broken  out  into  sobs. 


656  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

"Mother!  Santa  hasn't  brought  me  a  thing!  Everything's  for 
Hannah  and  Johnny !" 

Mrs.  Sharp  hurried  out  from  the  pantry.  "Oh,  yes  he  has,  Ma- 
mie!" she  said,  searching  among  the  scattered  every-day  garments, 
for  the  children  were  running  about  only  half  dressed,  as  yet.  Mr. 
Sharp,  too,  joined  in  the  search ;  but  nothing  was  found  for  Mamie— 
and  astonishment  grew  on  their  faces. 

Mrs.  Sharp  took  the  weeping  little  girl  into  her  arms.     "Santa 
certainly  brought  you  a  new  dress,  Mamie,"  she  said.   "I  saw  it  hang- 
ing right  here  with  my  own  eyes !  Don't  cry  so — we'll  find  it  directly  I" 
"A  new  dress?"  Johnny  repeated.     "Santa  brought  Mamie  a  new 
dress?" 

Slowly  the  truth  was  dawning  on  the  little  fellow.  He  had  taken 
his  sisters  dress  to  be  the  one  for  himself  which  Santa  had  threatened 
to  bring — but  now  he  felt  certain  it  must  be  Mamie's  new  Christmas 
dress  that  he  had  hidden  out  in  the  woodshed ! 

Poor  Johnny !  with  his  beautiful  warm  trousers  hanging  over  his 
arm  he  crept  into  his  place  of  refuge  behind  the  stove. 

"I  dasn't  tell,  or  they'll  take  my  pants  away,*'  he  thought. 

But  Mamie's  grief  touched  him  sorely.  Pretty  soon  he  laid  his 
trousers  down  and  went  out.  It  was  beginning  to  grow  red  in  the  east, 
and  the  roosters  were  crowing.  Going  into  tlie  woodshed,  he  found 
the  dress  where  he  had  thrown  it  in  the  night.  Picking  it  up  and 
giving  it  a  shake,  he  opened  the  kitchen  door  a  crack  and  called  Mamie. 

•'I  guess  this  is  your  dress  Santa  brought!"  he  said,  thrustint^ 
the  dusty  little  robe  into  the  arms  of  the  bewildered  child;  and  then 
he  ran  with  all  his  mic[ht  back  into  the  shed. 

Presently  Mr.  Sharp  found  Johnny. 

"Come  and  eat  vour  breakfast,  sonnv — vou  needn't  be  afraid,"  he 
said,  a^  he  saw  Johnny  shrink  a»way  from  him.  "You  can  tell  us  all 
about  it  tomorrow  if  vou  want  to — but  to  day  is  Christmas  day,  and 
we're  all  going  to  be  happy." 

Feeling  very  guilty,  Johnny  Lee  entered  the  kitchen  behind  hi> 
father  and  retired  back  of  the  stove ;  but  his  mother  smiled  upon  him 
brightly,  and  Hannah  warmed  his  wash-water,  and  both  the  g\rU 
helped  him  with  his  new  suit.  Catching  Mamie's  eye  he  whispered, 
"Say.  what  is  the  color  of  your  new  dress?" 

*'Whv.  it's  red — don't  you  know  red?"  said  Mamie. 
•    Johnny  shook  his  head.     "T  wish  I'd  a  kno\Vd  it — I  wish  I'd  a 
knowd  that  yellow  dress  was  red !"  he  said. 

However,  in  spite  of  Johnny's  troubles,  the  Sharp  family  \va> 
happy  all  day,  as  Mr.  Sharp  said  they  would  be — Johnny's  beautiful 
new  Christmas  trousers  alone  would  have  made  them  joyful. 

And  ever  afterward  Johnny  Sharp  maintained  that  there  was  a 
Santa.  "There  i^^."  said  he,  "and  I've  seen  him,  an'  he'd  split  himself 
but  what  he'd  .G:ive  every  little  fellow  like  us  the  things  they  want— 
he'd  ui^'  split  his'icdf  but  he'd  do  it!" 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  657 


THE  WONDERFUL  NIGHT. 

* 'Father,  am  I  old  enough  to  go  back  with  you  to  the  fields  to- 


morrow,-^" 


The  speaker,  a  stout  lad  in  shepherd's  garb  as  nearly  like  his 
father's  as  the  difference  in  size  would  make,  threw  back  his  shoulders 
and  made  much  of  himself. 

'*Wliy,  yes,"  replied  the  father,  his  eyes  measuring  the  boy's 
height  right  proudly,  "I  should  think  you  might  if  the  mother  is 
willing.    We  will  soon  have  to  fold  the  sheep  anyway." 

The  mother  being  willing,  father  and  son  trudged  along  together. 
The  father  was  refreshed  by  his  brief  visit  home,  even  though  procured 
by  sickness,  and  cheered  by  the  company  of  his  fuU-lifed  young  son. 
Moreover,  there  was  comfort  for  the  physical  man  in  the  wallet,  filled 
with  good  fresh  bread  of  his  wife's  baking,  cheese  from  his  own  cow 
and  oil  from  the  tree  under  which  his  children  had  crawled  and  played. 

But  the  shepherd  was  anxious  about  his  sheep.  He  had  left  them 
with  an  hireling,  and  as  he  thought  of  this  his  steps  involuntarily 
quickened  until  the  lad  Joseph's  busy  tongue  needed  to  stop  its  wagging 
and  save  breath  to  keep  pace  with  him.  It  was  nearing  noon  when  the 
father's  observant  eyes  began  to  rove  back  and  forth  over  the  wide 
stretches  of  green  through  which  they  were  passing.  At  length,  catch- 
ing a  glimpse  of  sheep  in  the  distance,  he  began  to  call — a  low,  loving, 
prolonged  call  embodying  the  names  of  those  sheep  who  were  accus- 
tomed to  follow  at  his  heels  as  he  led  the  way  to  better  pasture  or  to 
the  well  for  water. 

As  he  uttered  the  sound  one  white  head  after  another  lifted  and  a 
questioning  chorus  of  distant  "Baa-ba-a-ba-a-s"  responded.  Then  the 
whole  flock  ran  toward  him,  and  in  their  mute  gladness,  crept  close  for 
the  touch  of  his  hand. 

Young  Joseph  could  scarcely  contain  his  delight  at  this  manifes- 
tation of  their  intelligent  affection.  But  the  shepherd's  anxious  eye  was 
still  scanning  the  flock,  calling: 

"Leah,  Leah,  my  good  old  ewe!" 

No  joyous  ''ba-a"  answered  this  call  and  the  others  seemed  even 
to  grow  silent  a  moment  that  he  might  know  for  certain  Leah  was  not 
there. 

When  convinced  of  the  fact  he  hastened  on  to  where  the  drowsy 
hireling  was  starting  up  from  a  nap  and  demanded  sternly:  "Where 
is  my  Leah,  my  best  old  ewe?" 

"I  know  not,"  the  young  man  replied  shamefacedly.  "She  has 
been  two  days  missing  and  I  can't  find  her." 

"Have  you  looked  faithfully — "  the  old  shepherd  began  in  some 
heat,  an  indignant  wrath  Joseph  had  never  seen  his  father  show  before. 
But  it  quickly  passed  and  he  added  softly : 


658  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

"If  the  sheep  were  your  own  you  would  understand  why  I  care 
so  much.    Rest  here,  lad,  I  will  find  her,  if  she  be  yet  alive/' 

He  soon  returned,  carrying  Leah  in  his  arms,  for  she  had  fallen 
in  a  ravine  and  broken  her  leg.  The  hireling  was  permitted  to  remain 
and  assist  in  dressing  the  wounded  limb,  then  he  was  dismissed  with 
the  gentle  reproof : 

"Be  more  faithful  next  time  with  that  which  is  another's  and  you 
will  sooner  have  that  which  is  your  own." 

When  the  shades  of  night  had  fallen  father  and  son  sat  down  on 
the  grassy  sward  facing  each  other  and  drew  their  cloaks  about  them, 
for,  although  the  days  were  warm,  the  nights  began  to  hint  of  ap- 
proaching winter.  The  white  fleeces  crowded  near,  wounded  Leah 
lying  close  beside  the  shepherd.  The  stars  gleamed  in  eastern  brilliance 
in  the  darkening  sky  and  not  a  sound  broke  the  deep,  restful  stillness. 
Anon  Joseph  said: 

"Father  tell  me  again  of  the  'Wonderful  Night.'  I  can  understand 
better  now  with  the  sheep  and  the  stars  and  the  darkness." 

The  sober  outlines  of  the  shepherd's  face  relaxed  into  a  sweet, 
solemn  joy,  as  it  always  did  when  he  thought  of  it,  and  he  gladly  re- 
hearsed once  again  the  wonderful  story  which  never  lost  its  freshness 
or  its  interest  for  father  or  son. 

"Twelve  years  ago  tonight,"  he  began,  "and  just  such  a  night  as 
this,  a  moonless  darkness  in  which  the  stars  grew  brighter  and  brighter 
every  moment.  I  had  just  been  my  rounds  to  assure  myself  all  was 
well,  and  lay  stretched  upon  the  ground  full  length  to  rest  and  ««^tch. 
I  had  been  thinking  of  the  Messiah  who  had  been  promised  so  .jng, 
repeating  some  of  the  prophecies  concerning  him,  and  my  heart  went  up 
to  Jehovah  in  the  cry,  'How  long,  O  Lord,  how  long?* 

"Something  seemed  to  touch  me,  and  I  saw  standing  over  me  a 
bright  being  such  as  appeared  unto  Abraham  and  Jacob  and  Gideon. 
A  brightness  greater  than  of  the  noonday  sun  seemed  to  make  all  the 
world  visible.  I  was  terribly  afraid.  But  a  voice  said  gently:  Tear 
not,  for  behold  I  bring  you  good  tidings  of  great  joy,  which  shall  be  to 
all  people.  For  unto  you  is  bom  this  day,  in  the  .city  of  David, 
a  Savior,  which  is  Christ  the  Lord.  And  this  shall  be  a  sign  unto 
you:  Ye  shall  find  the  babe  wrapped  in  swaddling  clothes,  lying  in 
a  manger.' 

"As  the  angel  ceased  speaking  suddenly  it  appeared  as  if  each 
star  had  turned  to  an  angel.  The  whole  heavens  and  the  air  all  about 
were  full  of  them  singing  and  praising  God." 

As  the  father  paused  a  moment  the  boy  crept  closer  in  his  eager- 
ness and  questioned:     "And  what  did  they  sing?" 

"Glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  and  on  earth  peace,  good  will  to- 
ward men.' " 

"  'Peace,  good  will  toward  men!'  "  he  repeated  thoughtfully..  "That 
was  whv  vou  were  kind  to  the  hireling  who  suffered  Leah  to  be  in  pain 
and  distress  so  long?" 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  659 

"Yes." 

For  a  few  seconds  both  looked  silently  up  at  the  stars.  Then  the 
boy  leaned  down  on  his  elbow  and  waited  for  the  remainder  of  the 
story. 

"As  the  last  angel  disappeared  into  the  heavens  and  their  song 
died  sweetly  away  in  the  distance  I  arose  and  girded  my  garments  about 
me. 

"While  thus  engaged  another  shepherd  came  up,  and  another  and 
another.  Each  had  seen  the  wonderful  vision.  And  we  said  one  to  an- 
other :  'Let  us  go  to  Bethlehem  and  see  what  it  meaneth,  this  that  the 
Lord  hath  made  known  to  us.    For  verily  the  Messiah  hath  come?" 

"Straightway  we  went  to  Bethlehem.  We  sought  Him  not  in  the 
fine  houses,  for  the  sign  was — a  babe  in  the  manger.  Therefore  we 
betook  us  to  the  stables  of  the  inns,  all  crowded  as  they  were  with  the 
horses,  camels  and  oxen  of  those  who  had  come  to  their  ancestral 
city  to  be  taxed  according  to  the  command  of  the  emperor. 

"At  last  we  found  Him — the  Babe  in  the  manger. 

"A  week  before  a  messenger  had  come  to  bring  me  tidings  of  the 
birth  of  another  babe,  and  I  had  hastened  home  to  bless  my  little  Jo- 
seph." 

For  a  moment  the  father  turned  his  eyes  tenderly  on  his  only  son. 

"The  Babe  in  the  manger  was  no  prettier  than  my  boy — yet — ^there 
lingered  about  Him  a  strange,  marvelous  brightness  and  His  eyes 
seemed  to  pierce  the  secrets  of  my  soul.  With  one  accord  we  fell  on 
our  knees  and  worshiped  Him." 

"And  that  is  all?"  wistfully.    'You  have  never  seen  Him  since?" 

"No  .  The  next  time  I  came  nigh  to  Bethlehem  with  the  sheep  I 
went  in  to  inquire  of  Him  and  learned  of  the  terrible  massacre  of  the 
babes  at  the  command  of  Herod." 

"Do  you  think  the  babe  in  the  manger  could  have  been  killed?"  the 
lad  asked,  as  eager  and  anxious  as  if  he  had  never  heard  the  story  be- 
fore. 

"I  cannot  think  so,"  the  father  replied. 

"Do  you  believe  we  will  ever  see  Him  again?" 

"I  do  not  believe  God  sent  us  the  good  tidings  that  wonderful 
nig^ht  only  to  disappoint  and  grieve  us.  Of  this  much  I  am  sure.  If 
we  live  up  to  the  revelation  He  has  given  us,  He  will  give  us  the  more." 

'As  you  did,"  the  boy's  eyes  glistened. 

'As  i  try  to  do." 

"If  I  could  but  see  Him  once — our  little  King!'  'the  boy  breathed 
wistfully. 

Joseph's  first  lesson  as  a  shepherd  was  short,  for  in  a  few  weeks  the 
weather  was  colder  and  the  sheep  were  taken  to  the  home  fold.  But 
now  another  era  of  his  life  approaches.  In  the  coming  month  of  Nisan 
he  IS  to  attend  his  first  Passover. 

A  Jewish  boy's  first  Passover  was  the  time  of  his  life.    From  then 


660  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

he  was  accounted  a  '*son  of  the  law"  and  expected  to  take  part  in  re- 
ligious duties  of  his  own  accord. 

Through  all  the  inspiring  preparations  for  the  feast  Joseph  could 
not  forget  the  babe  in  the  manger.  There  were  so  many  things  to 
wonder  about.  He,  a  shepherd's  child,  had  been  bom  in  his  own  home; 
the  little  Messiah  in  a  stable.  He  dreamed  over  at  night  the  horror  of 
all  those  little  dead  babies.  Why  had  God  let  it  be  ?  and  was  the  little 
Messiah  one  of  them  ?  His  father  did  not  think  so.  Perhaps  God  let 
Him  be  born  in  the  stable  to  keep  the  cruel  men  from  finding  Him, 
or,  maybe  He  had  been  hidden  from  them  in  some  other  way  as  little 
Moses  was.  Even  if  the  Babe  had  been  killed  could  not  Jehovah  make 
it  be  born  again? — or — send  another?  But  no — it  did  not  seem  as  if 
there  could  be  another. 

At  every  thought  of  their  trip  to  Jerusalem  a  vague  hope  stirred 
the  boy's  heart  that  in  going  out  of  their  quiet  world,  duty-led,  they 
might  hear  something  of  the  Babe  in  the  manger,  and  the  great  yearn- 
ing desire  to  see  the  little  Savior,  over  whose  birth  His  father  had  heard 
the  angels  singing,  grew  and  grew. 

Familiar  as  was  the  account  of  the  Passover  in  Egypt,  it  became  a 
new  story  to  Joseph,  as  it  always  must  when  depicted  in  the  impressive, 
symbolic  ceremonies  of  the  great  feast. 

When  all  was  over  Joseph  begged  to  remain  yet  a  little  longer, 
though  the  hope  of  his  heart  was  growing  dim.  Among  all  the  devout 
worshipers  in  Jerusalem,  none  spoke,  or,  as  far  as  he  could  tell,  con- 
cerned themselves  about  the  Babe  in  the  manger. 

In  one  of  the  porches  of  the  temple  they  came  one  day  upon 
a  group  of  rabbis. 

"They  may  be  talking  about  Him  now,  for  surely  they  know, 
these  wise  men  of  our  nation !"  he  thought,  and  pressed  eagerly  forward. 

As  he  drew  near  he  saw  in  their  midst  a  boy  no  older  than  himself. 
Every  eye  was  turned  toward  Him,  every  car  listening  and  intent, 
for  He  seemed  to  answer  wisely  all  the  questions  asked  of  Him  until 
even  the  elders  marveled  greatly. 

Jo.seph's  heart  thrilled.  Could  not  this  lad  who  knew  so  much  tell 
them  what  had  become  of  the  Babe  in  the  manger? 

But  while  Joseph  waited  respectfully  a  fitting  oportunity  to  speak, 
a  distressed  mother  appeared  on  the  scene  exclaiming: 

"Son  why  hast  Thou  thus  dealt  with  us?  Behold.  Thy  father  and 
I  have  sought  Thee  sorrowing!" 

The  strange  little  lad  turned  to  her.  nothing  lacking  of  the  reverent 
mien  a  Jewish  boy  owes  his  mother,  yet  His  face  ashine  with  the  con- 
sciousness of  a  mission  to  which  even  His  mother  must  yield,  and,  lift- 
ing His  eyes  significantly  toward  heaven  said  tenderly: 

"Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  be  about  my  Father's  business?" 

At  this  the  shepherd  whispered  in  his  son's  ear : . 

''It  is  Tie — the  Babe  of  whom  the  angels  sang!" 

Involuntarily  Joseph  glanced  around  for  the  manger — ^until  now 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  661 

it  had  not  occurred  to  him  the  Babe,  if  alive,  would  have  out-grown  its 
cradle — then  back  at  the  beautiful  face  of  the  boy. 


TUE   BOY   JESl'S   AND  THE  DOCTOFS. 

In  that  moment  his  soul  was  knit  to  Him  in  a  life-long  allegiance. 
He  longed  to  cast  himself  at  His  feet  and  worship  as  his  father  had 
done.  But  while  he  hesitated  the  young  stranger  walked  quietly  off 
with  His  mother. 

When  and  how  should  they  see  Him  again?  The  thoughts  of  the 
shepherd's  son  went  out  after  the  other  with  an  insatiable  longing.  And 
yet.  as  they  turned  their  faces  homeward  young  Joseph's  heart  was  full 
of  holy  joy,  for  had  not  his  first  Passover  been  crowned  with  a  sight 
of  the  Messiah — the  Babe  of  whom  the  angels  sang  on  that  wonderful 
night  ? — Selected. 


Sing  a  song  of  Christmas, 

When  hearts  are  at  their  best : 
Sing  a  song  of  Christmas, 

When  selfishness  doth  rest. 
When  the  child  within  us 

Opens  wide  our  heart 
That,  in  each  man's  pleasure, 

All  may  feel  a  part. 


will- 


662 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


KEESA  DOAHBY'S  CHRISTMAS  SONG. 


BY  RUTH  EVERETT  BECK. 


Keesa  Doahby  lived  in  a  little  two- 
roomed  government  house  on  the  Kiowa 
Indian  reservation  before  it  was  opened  to 
settlement.  She  played  out  of  doors  with 
her  baby  brother  almost  all  day  long  and 
never  a  care  had  crossed  her  path  till  one 
day  her  father  came  in  with  the  news  that 
in  a  few  days  more  Keesa  must  start  to 
school. 

Now  the  school  was  a  fine  place  to  visit, 
especially  at  Christmas  time ;  but  Keesa  did 
not  like  the  idea  of  going  there  to  stay  and 
sleeping  away  from  home,  of  having  a 
round  of  duties  and  of  being  allowed  to  play 
during  certain  hours  only;  so  she  sulked  a 
little  and  said  she  did  not  want  to  go. 

But  her  father  said  she  must  go  because 
the  Agent  had  spoken  of  it,  and  if  she  were 
not  started  in  school  soon  a  policeman  would 
be  sent  to  take  her  there. 

Therefore,  about  a  week  later,  Keesa 
was  carefully  dressed  in  her  cunning  little 
buckskin  suit  trimmed  with  over  five  hun- 
dred priceless  elk  teeth  and  many  beads,  and 
fringed  at  the  bottom  of  the  skirt  and  at  the 
ends  of  the  sleeves.  Her  hair,  which  had  been  undergoing  a  week  of 
most  rigorous  treatment  in  order  that  the  matron  would  not  cut  it  when 
she  got  to  school,  was  neatly  braided  and  tied  with  a  pink  ribbon.  She 
looked  very  pretty  as  her  father  lifted  her  up  into  the  wagon  beside  her 
chest  of  trinkets,  her  mother  and  her  baby  brother. 

They  drove  over  many  miles  of  the  Oklahoma  prairie,  but  at  last 
they  came  to  the  trader's  store,  and  there  a  few  rods  farther  on  was  the 
boarding  school,  with  the  laundry,  the  blacksmith's  shop  and  its  many 
other  buildings  around  it. 

This  little  school  village  was  not  new  to  Keesa  nor  to  her  parents. 
They  often  visited  their  cousins  there,  but  the  Indian  father  looked  at 
it  this  time  with  new  thoughts  for  he  was  going  to  leave  his  little  girl 
for  the  first  time.  Probably  Keesa's  mother  felt  bad,  too,  but  when  the 
father  speaks  the  Indian  mother  knows  it  is  not  her  place  to  object.  Be- 
sides father  and  mother  both  had  been  to  the  Carlisle  Indian  school  so 
they  knew  that  it  was  for  Keesa's  own  good  that  she  should  be  left 
there. 


J 


KEESA  SINGING  HER  BEST. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  663 

The  little  girl  was  welcomed  as  were  all  the  others;  the  matron 
took  her  in  charge,  brought  out  a  pretty  red  flannel  dress  and  other 
articles  of  clothing  that  some  girl  of  last  year  had  outgrown,  took 
Keesa's  cherished  elk-tooth  embroidery  and  leggins  and  packed  them 
in  with  her  trinkets,  then  dressed  her  as  a  white  girl.  Keesa  looked  into 
the  mirror  then  turned  to  the  matron  with  a  smile. 

''I  al-ready  can  speak  some  Englis',"  she  said,  with  the  queer  little 
soft  accent  all  Indian  children  have. 

That  of  course  made  it  much  easier  for  Keesa,  and  as  she  knew  all 
the  Indian  songs  and  the  songs  the  dear  little  missionaries  had  taught 
the  Kiowas,  she  was  soon  put  forward  to  sing  in  an  entertainment. 

Oh,  but  her  heart  beat  like  a  tom-tom,  when  out  came  the  Agent 
and  several  other  people,,  the  night  of -the  entertainment. 

The  more  Keesa  thought  about  it,  the  more  Keesa  feared  to  stand 
up  to  sing  before  all  those  people  and  the  rest  of  the  school. 

'T  will  not  do  it,"  she  finally  decided ;  but  she  did  not  tell  her  teacher 
of  her  decision. 

^'One  more  rehearsal  at  five  o'clock,"  she  heard  the  principal  teacher 
say.  And  at  five  o'clock  all  those  who  sang  or  recited  filed  into  the 
chapel  to  practice.  Every  one  else  went  through  his  or  her  part  rapidly 
till  it  came  to  Keesa  Doahby. 

''Now  Keesa,  let  us  hear  'Little  John  Bottle  John',"  said  the  teacher. 

Keesa  did  not  move  from  her  seat. 

"Come  Keesa,"  persuasively  said  the  teacher. 

The  little  Kiowa's  eyes  seemed  glued  to  the  wall  in  front  of  her. 

In  astonishment  the  teacher  said,  "Keesa?  You?  Why  I  thought 
you  would  never  fail  us !"  But  Keesa  still  appeared  to  be  both  deaf  and 
dumb. 

The  teacher  in  charge  was  so  exasperated  that  she  was  obliged  to 
step  into  the  hall  to  calm  her  temper ;  for  this  habit  of  obstinacy  is  the 
worst  of  all  in  dealing  with  Indian  children,  the  hardest  to  conquer. 
But  in  a  moment  the  teacher  returned  with  a  smile  and  asked  for  a  song 
by  the  school. 

Keesa  didn't  quite  enjoy  this.  She  really  did  not  want  to  sing,  but 
she  had  hoped  to  be  asked  to  do  so,  asked  a  great  many  times,  too !  But 
nobody  said  a  word  about  it  again.  The  rehearsal  was  over  soon  and 
the  children  passed  out. 

By  the  time  supper  was  over,  Keesa  was  nearly  wild  for  fear  she 
would  not  have  a  chance  to  sing,  and  at  the  last  moment  as  the  girls, 
all  dressed  in  their  best,  blue  dresses,  filed  into  the  chapel,  Keesa  whis- 
pered as  she  passed  her  teacher,  "I  will  sing  it,  the  song,  tonight  if  you 
ask  me." 

The  teacher  smilingly  said,  "No,  I  shall  not  call  on  you,  Keesa." 

Keesa  winked  back  her  tears  and  took  her  seat.  She  was  hardly 
conscious  of  what  was  going  on  about  her,  until  she  heard  her  name 
called  by  the  music  teacher.  Then  she  noticed  that  it  was  not  her  own 
teacher  who  was  reading  the  program. 


664  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

"Now,  Keesa  Doahby  will  sing  to  us  about  'Little  John  Bottle 
John',"  she  heard  announced. 

Would  she?  Keesa  Doahby  braced  herself  obstinately  in  her  seat. 
She  glanced  in  the  direction  of  the  place  in  which  her  teacher  usually 
stood  only  to  find  that  she  was  not  in  the  room — at  least  not  where  the 
little  girl  could  see  her. 

Maybe  she  wouldn't  ask  her  again !  As  this  sickening  idea  came 
over  her,  Keesa  stood  up  and  in  a  moment  more  she  was  facing  the 
school  and  the  guests,  and  singing  her  best. 

As  she  saw  how  pleased  every  one  seemed,  the  little  Kiowa's  face 
grew  crimson  for  she  well  knew  how  naughty  she  had  been.  When  the 
evening  was  over,  she  made  her  way  hastily  to  her  own  teacher  and 
whispered,  "Please  escuse  me  !"^  then  flew  back  to  her  place  in  line  and 
marched  up  to  the  dormitory. 

That  night  all  the  teachers  met  to  talk  with  the  Agent.  He  was 
loud  in  his  praise  of  little  Keesa  Doahby's  song. 

"And  the  beauty  of  the  whole  thing  was  the  unhesitating:  way  in 
which  the  timid  little  thing  came  forward,"  he  said. 

And  when  he  had  heard  the  story  of  her  behavior  and  of  the 
apology,  he  said,  "Bless  her  little  heart!     I  shall  remember  that!" 

When  Christmas  came  Santa  Claus  sent  many  boxes  to  the  board- 
ing-school, and  the  Agent  sent  another.  The  Agent's  box  contained  a 
little  doll  for  each  girl  and  a  toy  for  each  boy. 

When  the  beautiful  tree  was  all  trimmed,  and  the  eyes  that  had  been 
trying  to  peep  in  at  the  curtained  windows  of  the  chapel  all  day  had 
feasted  themselves  on  the  scene,  every  little  pupil  girl  drew  a  breath  of 
ecstasy  as  she  looked  up  at  the  top  of  the  tree ;  for  there,  high  above 
all  the  others,  was  a  large  and  most  beautiful  doll  from  Paris. 

"Whose  can  it  be?  I  know  it  is  not  for  me,"  said  every  little  girl, 
with  hope  in  her  heart  in  spite  of  her  words. 

And  because  everyone  was  so  curious,  of  course  that  tree  was 
stripped  of  every  other  thing,  of  even  every  sack  of  candy,  before  that 
wonderful  doll  was  touched ! 

Then  the  teacher  got  a  tall  boy  to  take  it  down,  after  which  she 
read  from  the  card  attached :  "To  my  little  Songstress  Keesa  Doahby, 
for  conquering  herself." 

Then  followed  the  name  of  one  of  the  best  friends  the  Kiowas  ever 
had,  that  of  the  acting  Indian  Agent  then,  now  a  famous  brigadier 
general. 

As  Keesa  put  her  much-admired  doll  along  with  her  buckskin  suit 
in  the  chest,  she  said,  "'For  conquering  herself?'  What  mean  that? 
I  thought  for  'Little  John  Bottle  John.'  " 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  665 

PANSY'S  MOTHER'S  CHRISTMAS  GIFT. 

BY  ALICE  MAY  DOUGLASS. 

Pansy's  real  name  was  I^ttie,  biit 
Ikt  mother  called  her  Pansy  because 
she  was  bright-faced  like  the  pansy 
flower. 

Pansy  and  Rhoda — Rhoda  was 
Pansy's  most  intimate  friend  and  lived 
across  the  street — were  talking  of 
Christmas  over  by  Rhoda's  gate,  and 
Khoda  said,  "My  mother  says  that  on 
Christmas,  if  we  can,  we  must  give 
people  what^hey  want  the  most  of 
anything." 

"But  liow  can  wc  tell  what  they 
want  the  most  of  anything?"  asked 
Pansy,  and  then,  after  a  moment,  sud- 
denly looked  guilty, 

"Oh,  we  most  always  know  about 

I'.vN'SY.  our  own   folks  anyway,"  said  Rhoda. 

"We  hear  them  talking." 

"Yes,"  said  Pansy,  frankly,  "we  do.     I  know  one  thing  my  Mama 

wants,  for  I've  heard  her  say  it  a  hundred  times — oh,  such  a  lot  of  times! 

But  you  can't  giiess  what  it  is !" 

"What's  the  use  of  trying  then  ?"  laughed  Rhoda. 
"I'll  be  shamed  to  tell,"  said  Pansy,  "but  it's  just  this.     You  know 
how  I  like  to  have  my  own  way?" 

"Sure,"  said  Rhoda,  mischievously. 

Pansy  laughed  too,  but  in  a  moment  she  was  serious  a^^ain.     "I  do 
believe  what  my  mother  wants  most  of  anything  in  the  world  is  to  have 
'  me  give  in!"  she  said. 

"I  shouldn't  be  surprised,"  said  Rhoda. 

"Yes,  of  course  yon've  seen  me  and  know  how  I  act,"  said  Pansy, 
the  color  of  a  very  deep-red  j>ansy  flower.  Then  she  went  on  bravely, 
"When  I  want  to  have  my  own  way,  and  get  into  one  of  my  tantrums, 
Mama  says,  'Lettie,  can't  you  give  in?  Pd  rather  have  you  just  give  in 
than  to  have  anything  else  in  the  world!'  " 

"And  can't  ynu  give  in?"  asked  Rhoda,  curiously. 
"It's  likely  I  can,  if  I  want  to."  .she  said.     "I'm  not  so  horrid  that 
I  can't  be  good,  Miss  Rhoda  Green !     I  don't  like  you  very  much,  Rhoda 
Green!" 

And  then  the  saucy  little  Rhoda  Green  began  to  cry,  and  turned 
away,  and  Pansy  began  to  cry  too.  and  she  started  to  run  across  to  her 
side  of  the  street,  and  Rhoda  started  to  go  into  her  own  house.  When 
Pansy  >aw  that,  she  stopped.     "You  haven"!  heard  it  all,"  she  called. 


666  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

"I  intend  to  give  in  on  Christmas  day.  That  will  be  my  present  to 
Mama,  and  what  she  wants  the  most  of  anything,  just  as  your  mother 
said." 

"But  you  may  not  have  a  tantrum  on  Christmas!"  called  back 
Rhoda,  with  a  naughty  little  laugh.  And  then  the  little  girls  separated 
and  went  home. 

The  next  morning,  Christmas  morning,  after  they  had  wished  each 
other  "Merry  Christmas!"  Pansy  put  her  arms  around  her  mother, 
where  she  stood  by  the  stove  frying  slices  of  chicken  breast  to  a  golden 
brown.  "I  can  'give  in,'  Mama !  Of  course  I  can,  and  I  am  going  to!" 
she  said.     "That's  my  Christmas  present  to  you.  Mama!" 

The  morning  after,  when  Pansy  was  reading  in  a  new  Christmas 

book,  her  mother  hurriedly  asked  her  to  run  over  to  the  bakery  and 

bring  some  fresh  rolls,  and  little  Pansy  laid  her  book  down  and  went 

.   at  once,  though  to  stop  in  the  middle  of  a  story  was  nearly  sure  to  bring 

on  a  tantrum ! 

Rhoda  waylaid  her  at  the  gate,  across  the  street.  "Did  you  give 
your  Christmas  present?"  she  called.     ** Could  you?" 

Pansy  answered  with  a  little  toss  of  her  head.  "Why,  of  course 
I  could,"  said  she,  "and  I  just  'joyed  to  give  it!" 

.   For  when  Pansy  gave  a  thing  she  gave  it  for  good  and  all. 

It  has  been  nearly  a  year  now,  and  Pansy  has  not  had  a  tantrum 
since  Christmas  last. 

KEEPING  CHRISTMAS. 

•  It  is  a  good  thing  to  observe  Christmas  Day.  The  mere  marking 
of  times  and  seasons  when  men  agree  to  stop  work  and  make  merry 
together  is  a  wise  and  wholesome  custom.  It  helps  one  to  feel  the 
supremacy  of  the  common  life  over  the  individual  life.  It  reminds  a  man 
to  set  his  own  little  watch,  now  and  then,  by  the  great  clock  of  humanity. 

But  there  is  a  better  thing  than  the  observance  of  Christmas  Day, 
and  that  is,  keeping  Christmas. 

Are  you  willing  to  forget  what  you  have  done  for  other  people  and 
remember  what  other  people  have  done  for  you;  to  ignore  what  the 
world  owes  you  and  to  think  what  you  owe  the  world;  to  put  your 
rights  in  the  background  and  your  duties  in  the  middle  distance  and 
your  chances  to  do  a  little  more  than  your  duty  in  the  foreground ;  to 
see  that  your  fellow  men  are  just  as  real  as  you  are,  and  to  try  to  look 
behind  their  faces  to  their  hearts,  hungry  for  joy ;  to  own  that  probably 
the  only  good  reason  for  your  existence  is  not  what  you  are  going  to 
get  out  of  life,  but  what  you  are  going  to  give  to*  life ;  to  clDse  yotir 
book  of  complaints  against  the  management  of  the  universe  and  look 
around  you  for  a  place  where  you  can  sow  a  few  seeds  of  happiness — 
are  you  willing  to  do  these  things  even  for  a  day  ?  Then  you  can  keep 
Christmas.     *     *     * 

And  if  you  keep  it  for  a  day,  why  not  always? 

But  you  can  never  keep  it  alone. — Henry  Van  Dyke. 


WATCHING  FOR  SANTA. 

The  babies  have  hung  up  their  stockings  all  right — 
And,  if  only  they  can  keep  awake  through  the  night, 
I'm  sure  they  will  see  a  wonderful  sight! 


668  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 


THE  SNOW  MAN. 

BY  H.  S.  KELLER. 

**The  snow  is  just  right  for  a  fort  or  a  snow-man,"  said  Tommy 
Tucker,  as  the  boys  halted  at  his  gate  Saturday  afternoon.  As  he  spoke 
he  made  a  ball  and  aimed  at  a  post  across  the  street,  hitting  it  with 
nicety. 

Should  it  be  a  fort  or  a  snow-man?  The  question  was  settled  that 
it  should  be  a  snow-man,  and  the  place  to  build  him  was  agreed  upon. 
They  presently  started  toward  the  vacant  lot  some  distance  away,  when 
Tommy  halted  and  said : 

"Boys,  there's  a  little  fellow  who  lives  in  that  big  house  down  the 
street.  Fve  seen  him  sitting  by  a  window  often.  He  looks  sick  and 
thin.  Let's  go  and  build  the  snow-man  so  he  can  have  fun  up  in  his 
window  watching  us." 

As  Tommy  was  usually  the  prime  mover,  the  rest  of  the  lads  joined 
in,  retraced  their  steps  down  the  street  and  halted  before  the  wide  gate. 

"Fm  going  to  ask  if  we  can't  build  a  snow-man  in  their  front  yard," 
said  Tommy.  "You  wait  here."  Tommy  was  a  plucky  fellow,  and 
running  up  the  steps,  rang  the  bell  and  said  to  the  maid  who  an- 
swered it : 

"I  would  like  to  see  the  little  boy's  mother." 

"For  what?     She  is  very — " 

"I  know  what  you  mean,  but  please  tell  her  that  Tommy  Tucker 
wants  to  see  her." 

**And  who  is  Tommy  Tucker?"  asked  a  gentle,  low  voice  as  a 
sweet-faced  woman  came  from  a  cheery  room  off  the  hall.  The  maid 
stepped  aside,  and  for  a  moment  the  boy  was  a  little  confused. 

"I  am  just  Tommy  Tucker,"  he  said.  "The  boys  out  there  at  the 
gate  and  I  want  to  build  a  big  snow-man  in  your  yard.  We  want  the 
sick  b(\v  in  the  window  to  have  some  fun.  So  we'd  like  to  build  it  where 
he  can  see  us  do  it.     We  won't  spoil  a  single  b.ush  nor  do  any  harm." 

The  mother's  face  grew  soft  and  tender  as  the  rosy-cheeked  boy 
spoke.  They  wanted  to  do  something  to  please  and  amuse  the  little 
sick  boy  up-stairs.  They  wanted  the  poor  "kept-in"  to  have  fun  in  a 
window.     Her  eyes  grew  moist  as  she  said: 

"You  may  build  forty  snow-men  in  the  yard  if  you  do  it  to  please 
my  little  boy.  Have  your  fun  out  there,  and  I  shall  see  that  the  little 
bov  has  his  fun  in  the  window." 

Tommy  thanked  her  and  ran  down  to  the  gate  and  told  his  com- 
rades of  his  success. 

The  boys  waved  their  hands  to  the  pale-faced  boy,  who  was  pres- 
ently wheeled  to  the  windc  w  and  leaned  upon  the  sill.  He  waved  his 
hand  back,  and  gave  them  a  smile  so  sweet  that  they  redoubled  their 
sport  just  to  please  him. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  669 

Such  an  affair  had  never  taken  place  before  in  that  yard.  A  half- 
dozen  fellows  rolling  up  big  snowballs,  building  snow-men  and  working 
like  beavers !  The  little  boy  in  the  window  clapped  his  thin  hands  and 
shouted;  his  eyes  sparkled,  and  a  rosy  glow  came  upon  his  cheeks  as 
he  watched  the  lads  below. 

They  fashioned  two  big  snow-men  in  the  attitude  of  boxers.  They 
made  a  soldier  with  a  broomstick  at  present  arms.  And  when  they 
made  a  giant  policeman  with  a  boy  under  his  arm,  he  covered  his  face 
with  his  hands  and  laughed  as  he  had  not  done  in  a  long  time.  Then 
they  built  close  to  the  walk  a  funny  old  woman. 

**This  beats  having  our  fun  all  alone,"  said  Tommy  Tucker,  as  he 
worked  at  the  figure  briskly.     Just  then  a  young  man  came  out  of  a 
store,  ran  to  the  gate  and  handed  one  of  the  boys  a  big,  old-fashioned 
sunbonnet  and  said:     "Put  that  on  the  head,  boys.     You're  having  a. 
lot  of  fun." 

When  this  was  put  on  the  old  woman's  head,  and  she  stood  there- 
in all  her  glory,  the  boy  in  the  window  drew  himself  up  close  by  the 
pane  and  clapped  his  hands  and  shouted.  The  mother  was  close  hy 
his  side,  with  one  arm  about  him,  joining  in  with  his  fun. 

The  yard  was  full  of  snow-men;  indeed,  there  was  not  enough 
snow  left  to  make  a  tiny  little  one  two  feet  high.  The  boys  waved 
their  hands  to  the  little  fellow  above  and  turned  to  leave,  when  the  big 
front  door  opened  and  the  maid  came  out  and  said : 

"You  are  all  to  come  in  and  have  lunch." 

**But  our  feet  are  quite  wet!" 

"You  are  all  to  come  in,  just  the  same,"  was  the  response.  She 
led  the  boys  down  the  beautiful  hall,  and  they  were  invited  up-stairs  to 
the  little  boy's  room,  where  he  and  his  mother  entertained  them  with 
books,  pictures  and  other  things.  Then  the  little  boy  shook  hands  with 
each  of  the  lads,  and  thanked  them  aM  for  remembering  him. 

"Boys,"  said  Tommy  Tucker,  as  he  led  the  way  to  the  street,  "Fve 
had  more  fun  today  than  I  ever  had."  And  they  all  agreed  that  they 
had  never  enjoyed  anything  so  nuich.— l^>om  the  Youth's  Companion. 


TWO  WAYS  OF  TRAVEL. 

(A  True  Story.) 

KV  ANNIE  HxXMILTON  DONNELL. 

The  long  train  drew  into  the  "Dinner  Station"  and  hungry  people 
began  to  bestir  themselves.  Families  and  couples  and  single  persons 
stepped  briskly  down  the  aisle  and  across  the  broad  platform  toward 
the  Dinner.  Frances  and  Bruce  and  Willie  Wisp  were  hungry  people 
but  they  did  not  bestir  themselves.  Their  dinner  was  in  the  basket 
in  mother's  seat  and  did  not  begin  with  a  capital  D —  only  splendid 
ones  eaten  at  round  tables,  in  great  rooms  with  waiters  flying  about^ 
began  with  capitals. 


670  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

''Oh  dear,"  softly  sighed  Frances,  "I  wish  we  were  rich!" 

*'So  do  I,"  sighed  Bruce,  but  not  softly.  "Then  we'd  go  'cross 
there  too,  and  eat  our  dinner  out  of  plates  and  knives  and  forks." 

'*And  we'd  step  down  out  of  our  parlor-car, — ^not  this  common- 
car, — and  when  the  conductor  said,  *A11  aboard  T  we'd  fold  up  our 
napkins  like  everything  and  run  back  to  the  parlor-car  and  sit  in  big, 
soft  seats. 

Frances'  eyes  were  wistful,  she  was  thinking  especially  of  Loubellc 
Weir.  Loubelle  was  in  the  parlor-car  or  else  across  there  in  the  great 
clattery,  chattery,  station  restaurant.  They  had  seen  her  get  on  the 
train,  stepping,  daintily  in  her  beautiful  white  clothes.  Her  mother 
and  a  maid  had  walked  behind  her.  Then  the  parlor-car  had  hidden 
lier,  and  they  themselves  had  stepped  up  onto  this  common-car,  with 
another  and  the  big  basket  behind. 

"Dinner's  ready!"  mother  called  from  her  seat.  She  had  a  white 
towel  spread  on  the  seat  beside  her,  and  grandmother's  biscuits  and 
cookies  and  little  round  tarts  laid  out  on  it.    She  was  smiling  gayly. 

The  three  children  crossed  the  aisle  and  sat  down  facing  mother. 
They  were  hungry  and  grandmother's  things  tasted  good,  but  there 
was  a  little  bitter  flavor  to  them  all,  just  as  if  grandmother  had  made 
a  mistake  and  flavored  them  with  extract  of  envy  instead  of  vanilla. 
While  they  sat  and  soberly  munched,  they  were  thinking  of  Loubelle 
Weir  and  her  dinner  with  a  capital  D,  and  of  the  parlor-car. 

"I  wish  we  would  travel  'ristocratic'ly !"  burst  out  Bruce  at  length, 
unable  to  restrain  himself.  "I  wish  we  were  in  parlor-car.  I  don't 
like  traveling  in  common  cars." 

"I  don't  either,"  Frances  agreed,  a  little  less  tumultuously.  "Fd 
rather  have  a  white  dress  on  and  sit  in  a  lovely  cushioned  chair  with 
plenty  of  room." 

"I'd  rawer,  too — so'd  I  rawer,"  chimed  in  Willie  Wisp,  eager  to 
join  the  majority.    "I  wanter  travel  in  a  cushion  chair." 

"Then  we'd  be  with  the  nicest  kind  of  folks,"  Frances  took  it  up 
again,  "not  with  all  kinds  like  this.  It  would  be  lovely  to  be  with  the 
nicest  kind." 

"I  know,"  Bruce  cried,  "we'd  go  on  a  flyer  then  and  just  fly! 
Wouldn't  we  go  on  a  flyer,  mother,  if  we  were  rich?  We  wouldn't  go 
creeping  along  this  way,  would  we?    No,  sir!" 

"How  would  you  like  to  travel  at  the  rateof  two  miles  an  hour — in 
a  cupboard — with  the  pigs?" 

The  children  turned  like  one  child.  The  voice  was  deep  and  pleas- 
ant and  came  from  directly  behind.  A  kind  old  face,  framed  in  white 
hair  and  beard,  was  nodding  at  them  over  the  seat-back. 

"Well,  how  would  you  like  that?"  repeated  the  deep  voice,  "Be- 
cause I  know  of  three  children  that  traveled  that  way.  They  were 
relatives  of  mine." 

The  people  from  the  resturant  were  drifting  back  into  the  car,  but 
the  children  did  not  see  them.  They  only  saw  the  kind  old  man  who 
said  such  remarkable  things.    His  relatives — in  a  cupboard — with  pigs! 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  671 

And  he  was  such  a  nice-looking  old  man  and  did  not  look  poor  at  all. 
It  did  not  seem  possible  that  his  relatives — 

"If  you  are  through  with  your  dinner  and  your  mother  is  willing, 
come  into  my  seat  and  I  will  tell  you  how  it  happened,"  the  deep 
voice  went  on  pleasantly. 

A?  they  went  they  had  a  glimpse  through  the  window  of  Loubelle 
Weir  crossing  the  station  platform  daintily  behind. 

"It  was  quite  a  little  while  ago — about  a  hundred  an'  fifty  years," 
the  old  gentleman,  began,  his  eyes  twinkling  down  av  them.  "My 
great-grandmother  was  about  as  old  as  you,  I  should  say,"  nodding  at 
Frances,  "and  she  had  two  brothers  younger  still.  Her  father  and 
mother  moved  from  one  little  town  to  another.  There  were  no  rail- 
roads, and  they  must  go  in  carts  drawn  by  gentle,  plodding  oxen 
— all  the  family  and  all  the  furniture  too. 

"And  the  children — the  story  has  come  down  very  straight— did 
not  go  in  the  parlor  'cart.'  There  was  a  huge  old  cupboard  with  a 
door  above  and  a  door  below,  with  a  partition  between  the  divisions. 
It  is  in  existence  now.  I  have  seen  it  many  a  time.  Well,  the  chil- 
dren's father  laid  this  great  cupboard  down  on  its  back  in  the  ox-cart 
and  proceeded  to  pack  the  three  children  in  one  of  its  compartments, 
and  the  pigs" — the  old  gentleman  paused  dramatically — "the  pigs  in 
the  other ! 

"And  that  was  the  way  they  traveled  all  the  way  to  the  new  home — 
jog- jog,  jog- jog,  jog- jog.  They  must  have  bumped  about  and  the  pigs 
must  have  squealed.  How  would  you  have  liked  that?  Not  a  very 
luxurious  way  to  travel,  was  it?  But,  do  you  know,  I  rather  expect 
those  three  little  shavers  thought  it  was  great  fun.  Thought  they  were 
traveling  in  style,  most  likely!  And  the  pigs — it  must  have  been  a 
great  day  for  the  pigs!" 

Frances  and  Bruce  and  little  Willie  Wisp  went  back  soberly  to 
their  own  seats.  They  had  forgotten  Loubelle  and  the  maid  and  the 
dinner  with  a  capital  D.  Back  and  forth  across  their  minds  jogged  a 
great  ox-car  with  a  huge  cupboard  inside,  on  its  back,  and  in  one  end 
were  three  children  and  in  the  other  end  were  pigs.  They  could  hold 
their  breaths  and  almost  hear  the  children  laugh  and  the  pigs  squeal. 
It  was  an  interesting  story  that  the  deep-voiced,  kind-faced,  twinkly- 
eyed  old  man  had  told. 

"What  a  comfortable  car  this  is!"    Frances  said,  by  and  by. 

"How  fast  we  go — most  fly !"  said  Bruce. 

"And  there  are  such  nice  folks  in  the  car." 

"And  nobody  in  the  other  end  is  squealing. 


672  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND, 

THE  STORY  OF  SPARKLh. 

A  WATER  BABY. 

RY  ALICE  M.  HASKELL. 

Sparkle  was  a  tiny  fellow,  with  a  silvery,  shining  coat,  triinined 
with  the  daintiest,  filmy,  lacey  things — fins  of  course — and  he  had 
two  bright  eyes  that  looked  like  little  jewels.  Perhaps  his  family  name 
was  Trout,  or  it  might  have  been  Minnow,  or  even  Bass — he  was  so 
tiny  it  was  hard  to  tell,  and  he  hadn't  the  strong  resemblance  to  hts 
parents  that  some  children  have,  but  he  was  a  sprightly,  active  water 
baby,  and  almost  as  soon  as  he  was  born  he  began  to  take  an  interot 
in  things,  and  look  for  himself.  For  you  must  know  that  little  fishes 
have  to  shift  for  themselves  from  the  very  first.  There  is  no  loving 
mother  to  care  for  them,  and  get  them  nice  things  to  eat,  and  watch  and 
protect  them  from  danger,  for  there  are  so  many  children  in  the  Fish 
families  that  the  mothers  do  not  know  their  own  babies  from  any 
others. 

Many  of  the  little  fishes  are  devoured  by  the  larger  ones,  but 
Sparkle  was  quick  and  watchful.  He  kept  out  of  the  way  <>f  the 
big  fishes,  and  when  any  danger  threatened  him  he  dodged  around  a 
pebble,  or  hid  himself  in  some  shadow,  or  kept  so  quiet  that  the  enemy 
passed  and  didn't  see  him. 

Now,  Sparkle  had  a  better  chance  for  life  than  many  fishes,  for 
he  was  hatched  in  Croton  Reservoir.  If  he  had  stayed  there  he 
might  have  lived  a  long  life  among  his  brothers  and  sisters  and  cous- 
ins, and  you  wouldn't  have  heard  of  him  at  all.  There  were  not 
many  large  fish  in  the  reservoir,  and  not  many  dangers.  I  think  u|X)n 
the  whole  he  must  have  had  some  very  good  times,  but  he  was  ambitious, 
and  perhaps  he  was  braver  than  his  mates.  Anyway,  he  was  very  in- 
dependent, and  that  was  how  it  happened  that  he  started  out  to  see 
the  world,  for  though  he  was  so  tiny,  he  was  brimful  of  curiosity,  and, 
like  some  boys  and  girls,  he  wanted  to  see  it  all. 

At  the  lower  part  of  the  reservoir  there  is  an  opening  into  a  big 
water  main  that  carries  water  to  the  houses  in  various  parts  of  the  city 
of  New  York.  Sparkle  had  been  careful  to  keep  away  from  this  place, 
as  the  other  fishes  did,  but  one  day  his  curiosity  got  the  best  of  him. 
Nobodv  could  tell  where  it  led  to — all  the  more  reason  why  he  must 
fiml  out.  so  one  day  he  quietly  slipped  away  from  his  playfellows  and 
dropped  into  the  strong  current  that  rushed  into  the  big  main. 

Dear  me!  What  a  terrible  jerk!  And  how  dark  it  was!  and  how 
frightfidly  fast  poor  Sparkle  was  whirled  along!  He  had  never  been 
afraid  of  the  dark  before,  but  now  he  didn't  want  to  see  where  the  main 
led  to  after  all. 

Pitiful  little  struggles  he  made  to  turn  back,  and  his  lacey  fins 
were  torn  by  the  effort,  but  the  swirling  water  was  too  strong  for  him. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  673 

He  couldn't  go  back  and  could  only  go  on,  and  on,  and  on,  hour  after 
hour,  through  the  darkness  and  cold,  up  and  down  and  always  on, 
bruised  and  beaten  and  bleeding. 

•  Perhaps  he  thought  of  the  sunlit  waves  of  the  reservoir  and  the 
happy  days  of  play  with  his  bright  little  comrades,  and  maybe  he  wished 
he  had  heeded  good  advice  and  keep  away  from  the  main  pipe. 

Ah,  curiosity!  It  is  such  fun  to  find  out  things,  but  sometimes  it 
leads  to  awful  trouble,  as  it  did  in  Sparkle's  case.  And  have  you  ever 
noticed  that  when  a  boy  or  girl  are  going  the  wrong  way  how  very, 
very  hard  it  is  to  get  back?  When  they  are  in  the  power  of  some 
bad  habit  it  seems  to  c^j^fy  them  right  along,  and  only  the  strong  and 
loving  One  can  save  them  and  put  them  on  the  right  way  again. 

What  became  of  Sparkle?  Well,  when  at  last  he  had  been  sw^ept 
through  the  big  pipe  into  a  smaller  one,  and  then  into  a  very  small  one, 
he  was  suddenly  shot  out  into  a  bathtub.  Not  a  great  ocean — only  a 
bathtub.  He  was  quite  dead,  and  though  a  good  man  picked  him  out 
of  the  tub,  laid  him  carefully  on  a  piece  of  white  paper,  and  brought 
him  to  national  headquarters,  to  be  passed  around  and  admired,  it  was 
all  over  for  Sparkle. 

Pie  wanted  to  see  for  himself ;  he  wouldn't  take  advice ;  and  once 
he  was  started  on  the  wrong  road  he  couldn't  turn  back. — Young 
Soldier. 


HE  USED  HIS  OPPORTUNITY. 

"More  than  two  hundred  years  ago  a  little  dark-eyed  Moorish  boy 
rapped  at  the  door  of  a  stately  house  in  Seville,  Spain,  and  asked  if  the 
master  was  within. 

The  attendant  ushered  him  into  a  large  room  where  a  grave,  sad- 
looking  man  was  talking  to  a  group  of  young  artists.  They  were  all 
listening  attentively,  for  the  man  was  the  greatest  painter  of  his  time — 
Bartolome  Esteban  Murillo. 

"Well,  my  boy,  what  can  I  do  for  you?"     inquired  Murillo. 

"I  heard  you  wanted  a  boy  to  sweep  your  rooms,  grind  paints,  and 
wait  up>on  you.    I  have  come  for  the  position." 

"Well,  you  can  have  it,  you  little  monkey.  And  you  can  go  right 
to  work." 

In  this  way  little  Sebastian  Gomez  was  introduced  into  the  studio 
of  the  great  ^lurillo.  He  remained  there  until  he  was  fifteen  years 
old,  doing  all  the  o<ld  jobs  for  the  painter  and  his  pupils,  and  taken 
very  little  notice  of  by  any  of  them. 

There  were  a  dozen  or  more  of  these  young  painters  studying 
under  Murillo — gay,  showy  fellows,  and  disposed  to  be  somewhat  care- 
less in  their  work.  Often  the  great  Murillo  was  obliged  to  lecture 
them  sharply  for  their  shortcomings. 


674  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

One  morning,  when  they  had  been  worse  than  usual,  he  scolded 
them  unmercifully.  "You  can  never  expect  to  become  painters/'  he 
said,  "if  you  do  not  put  more  care  and  labor  into  your  work.  Why, 
Sebastian  yonder,  who  knows  nothing  of  colors  might  do  better  work 
than  some  of  you." 

Murillo  intended  it  for  a  sharp  rebuke,  and  the  young  painters 
so  accepted  it.  Their  faces  flushed  with  wounded  pride,  and  they 
promised  to  do  more  efficient  work.  No  one  paid  any  heed  to  the  poor 
Moorish  lad  who  had  heard  the  words  and  who  was  blushing  as  fur- 
iously as  some  of  Murillo's  pupils. 

The  next  morning,  when  the  pupils  assembled,  several  of  them 
noticed  that  their  pictures  were  not  as  they  had  left  them  the  previous 
night. 

"Hello!  who  has  been  here?"  cried  curly-headed  Vincenzo,  one 
of  the  brightest  of  Murillo's  pupils.  Someone  has  put  a  child's  head 
on  my  canvas  that  is  none  of  my  work." 

"And  here  is  a  Virgin's  face  on  mine,"  said  Jose  Pareda,  the 
laziest  of  the  school.     "Who  could  have  done  it?" 

Others  were  exclaiming  meanwhile,  for  every  canvas  had  received 
a  touch  of  some  kind,  and  it  was  all  admirable. 

While  they  were  discussing  the  matter  the  door  opened  and  Mur- 
illo entered. 

"Let  me  congratulate  you;  you  are  improving,"  said  the  master. 
"Why,  Pareda,  that  is  very  good  for  you." 

"But  it  is  not  my  work,  master,"  said  Jose,  falteringly. 

"Not  yours;  whose  is  it,  then?" 

"That's  the  puzzle,"  answered  Vincenzo. 

And  a  puzzle  it  continued  to  be  for  several  mornings,  for  the  most 
wonderful  things  were  done  by  the  invisible  painter. 

"Well,  gentleman,  I  think  this  has  gone  far  enough,"  said  the 
master.  "Tomorrow  morning  we  will  come  an  hour  earlier  than  usual 
and  see  if  we  cannot  catch  this  unknown  artist  at  his  work." 

Surprised  enough  were  they  the  next  morning  to  see,  seated  at  one 
of  the  pictures,  the  little  "monkey,"  Sebastian  Gomez. 

"Who  taught  you  how  to  paint,  boy?"  asked  the  artist. 
'You,  master." 

'But  I  never  gave  you  a  lesson." 

"I  listened  to  what  you  told  those  gentlemen,  and  I  remembered  it." 

"Bravo,  Sebastian !"  cried  the  school.    "You  have  beaten  us  all." 

"And  I  have  made  a  painter,"  said  Murillo.^— Youth's  World. 


tr 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  675 

HAROLD'S  PROMISE. 

"What  excuse  have  you  this  time,  Harold?"  asked  the  teacher, 
wearily.  She  was  a  slender  young  lady  in  black,  with  a  tired  look  on  her 
pale  face,  and  she  looked  up  at  the  boy  standing  before  her  as  if  ready 
to  burst  into  tears. 

"Didn't  get  up  in  time,"  said  the  boy,  not  impertiently,  but  care- 
lessly.   "A  fellow  can't  be  thinking  of  school  all  the  time." 

'*Harold,  the  boys  all  pattern  after  you,  and  if  you  would  only  take 
more  pains  with  your  studies  the  whole  school  would  improve.  You 
are  tardy,  you  stay  away  for  no  reason  whatever,  and  your  grades 
are  getting  lower  and  lower  every  day.  When  do  you  intend  to  im- 
prove ?" 

"Some  day,"  said  the  boy,  with  a  smile  that  easily  made  hun  the 
leader  of  his  mates.  "You  can't  have  fun  when  you're  old  and  gray* 
headed.    You've  got  to  take  it  when  youVe  young." 

"I  wonder  if  you  know  that  you  are  to  make  me  lose  my  place  in 
the  schools  this  year,  Harold  ?"  asked  the  teacher.  "Yes  it  is  a  fact," 
as  the  boy  gave  a  start,  and  looked  surprised.  "It  will  be  your  fault 
when  my  name  is  dropped  from  the  roll." 

"They  won't  drop  you,  Miss  Davis,"  said  Harold,  thinking  his 
teacher  wanted  to  scare  him  into  being  good.  "Why  would  it  be  my 
fault  if  they  did  such  a  thing  ?" 

"Because  you  have  more  influence  with  the  boys  than  I.  They 
copy  you  in  all  things,  and  the  Board  of  Education  will  discharge  me 
because  half  of  my  scholars  will  fail  at  the  end  of  the  term. 

"I  don't  ask  the  boys  to  do  as  I  do,"  said  Harold,  impatiently. 
"If  they  get  poor  grades  it  isn't  my  fault.  I  don't  see  why  you  put  a'l 
the  blame  on  me." 

"Then  will  you  stay  away  from  school  altogether  until  the  end 
of  the  term  ?"  went  on  Miss  Davis.  "Your  rrtother  is  willing  to  take 
you  along  to  the  city  when  she  goes,  and  I  can  bring  up  the  .e  t 
of  the  boys  and  girls  in  their  work  if  you  are  out  of  town.  That  will 
surelv  be  easy  to  promise,  for  a  trip  to  the  city  would  delight  any 
boy."' 

"Indeed  I  can  promise  that,"  said  Harold.  "Mother  has  said  all 
along  that  she  intended  to  have  me  with  Aunt  Ida.  I  only  hope  the 
boys  will  do  better,  and  that  you  will  keep  your  place,  though  I  don't 
think  my  going  will  have  that  much  effect." 

"I  am  glad  for  that  much,"  said  Miss  Davis,  with  a  smile,  "though 
I  think  it  would  be  more  manly  to  apply  yourself  to  your  work,  and  not 
waste  time.     It  is  a     responsible  thing  to  be  a  leader,  Harold." 

So  to  the  city  Harold  went,  rejoicing  that  his  poor  grades  and 
general  inattention  to  work  won  him  the  vacation.  His  indulgent 
mother  was  always  easily  persuaded  to  allow  him  his  own  way,  think- 
ing her  only  child  should  not  be  made  to  work  unless  he  cared  to. 

"I  am  glad  to  have  you  for  a  visit,  Mary,"  said  Mrs.  Grant,  when 


676  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

her  sister  came  with  Harold,  "but  I  am  Very  sorry  you  brought  Harold. 
Mr.  Grant  has  a  young  man  with  him  just  now — the  son  of  a  very  dear 
friend — and  1  am  afraid  his  influence  will  not  be  the  best  with  younger 
bovs.  I  would  not  have  him  in  the  house  at  all  if  Mr.  Grant  did  not 
hope  to  have  some  influence  with  him  for  good.  His  mother  is  almost 
distracted  over  his  dissipated  habits.'' 

Harold  was  in  the  back  parlor  and  heard  his  mother  say.  care- 
lessly, "Oh,  I  don't  think  there  is  any  danger.  Miss  Davis  was  always 
j)redicting  doleful  things  because  Harold  was  not  first  in  his  cla^^s ;  but 
boys  will  be  boys." 

'There  is  one  thing,"  said  Harold's  aunt,  "Fred  Hoskins  keeps 
such  late  hours  that  Harold  is  not  likely  to  meet  him  often.  He  is  a 
weak,  silly  boy,  but  he  thinks  he  knows  everything." 

The  very  next  day,  when  both  ladies  were  busy,  Fred  Hoskins  of- 
fered to  show  Harold  the  sights  of  the  city,  and  without  waiting  for 
permission,  the  two  set  out.  *'Have  a  cigarette?"  said  the  young  man 
the  instant  they  were  on  the  sidewalk. 

Harold  reached  out  his  hand  for  the  ill-smelling  thing,  though  he 
had  never  smoked  in  his  life.  Got  a  match?"  he  inquired,  in  a  very 
matter-of-fact  tone  as  if  smoking  was  his  daily  occupation.  "Where  are 
we  going?" 

"Down  to  the  theatre/  said  the  young  man,  swaggering  along  with 
an  air  Harold  tried  to  imitate.    "Good  show  this  afternoon." 

They  were  scarcely  in  their  seats  when  the  lights  began  to  swim 
and  dazzle  before  Harold's  eyes,  and  he  vaguely  wondered  what  could 
make  his  head  feel  so  queer.  The  play  was  one  in  which  there  was  sup- 
posed to  be  a  great  deal  of  shooting  in  the  midst  of  a  terrific  thunder- 
storm, and  the  boy  thought  he  had  never  seen  anything  so  terrible 
in  his  life.  His  brain  was  in  a  whirl,  and  before  the  end  of  the  second 
act,   he   abruptly   told   his   companion   he   must  go   home. 

"My  head  feels  que^,"  he  said,  stumbling  along,  and  young  Hos- 
kins burst  into  a  loud  laugh. 

*'It  was  the  cigarette,"  he  said,  when  they  reached  the  open  air. 
"Why  didn't  you  say  you  never  had  smoked?  Fm  not  going  to  miss 
the  show  for  your  foolishness.  Take  the  car  with  the  green  letters,  if 
you  can  tell  red  from  green  in  your  condition,  and  change  at  Third 
street.    You  can't  miss  it." 

He  left  Harold  standing  forlornly  at  the  entrance  until  a  policeman 
told  him  to  move  on.  At  last  he  picked  up  courage  to  move  slowly 
down  the  street  until  he  came  to  a  policeman  with  a  kindly  face,  and  to 
him  he  told  his  troubles. 

"You'll  have  more  sense  some  day,  son,"  said  the  big  man.  "Fll  see 
that  you  get  home  all  right.  Fve  got  silly  boys  of  my  own,  who  think 
they  must  copy  some  big  overgrown  young  ruffian  instead  of  listening 
to  their  parents.    Come  on." 

Never  in  his  life  was  Harold  so  glad  to  drop  into  bed  and  sleep 
off  the"  effects  of  the  poison.    "It  was  all  my  fault,"  he  said  over  and 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  677 

* 

over  to  his  weeping  mother. .  ^'He  didn^t  ask  me  to  make  a  goose  of 
myself." 

"Want  another  coffin  nail?"  asked  Mr.  Hoskins,  cheerfully,  when 
Harold  appeared,  pale  and  languid,  next  morning.  "Sorry  you  couldn't 
stay  to  see  the  play  out.    It  w^as  great." 

"No,  I  don't  want  any  more  coffin  nails,"  said  Harold,  "now  or 
ever." 

"You'll  get  over  your  good  resolution,"  said  Fred,  cheerfully. 
"There  was  a  time  when  I  thought  the  same  thing,  but  I  find  it  agree- 
able to  have  a  good  time.  You'll  have  plenty  of  time  to  buckle  down 
to  work  after  while,  is  my  theory.  My  folks  think  Fm  studying 
law,  but  what's  the  use  w^hen  your  folks  have  enough  dough  to  support 
you  in  style?" 

That  night  Mr.  Grant  said,  "Your  father  has  concluded  to  stop 
your  allowance,  Fred.  He  says  to  come  home  at  once.  He  will  find 
good  w^ork  in  his  factory  if  you  have  not  enough  education  for  a  clerical 
position." 

"Isn't  that  a  little  hard  on  him,  uncle  ?"  asked  Harold,  when  Fred 
had  left  the  room.  "He  told  me  his  mother  never  made  him  do  any- 
thing." 

"Perhaps  it  does  seem  hard,  but  when  a  boy  is  as  old  as  Fred, 
he  should  have  some  sense."  Mr.  Grant  was  thoroughly  roused,  for 
he  had  tried  in  every  way  to  help  the  youth,  only  to  be  laughed  at  for 
his  pains. 

"Mother,  I  want  to  go  home  to-morrow,  to  make  up  my  work  in 
school  and  keep  up  with  my  class,"  said  Harold,  abruptly,  that  night. 
"I  promised  Miss  Davis  to  stay  away  until  school  is  out,  but  she  will 
release  me  when  she  finds  I  mean  business.  Fll  stay  with  Aunt  Ida 
and  go  to  school  every  day  if  you'll  only  let  me  go  home." 

Harold  had  his  way,  and  his  aunt  and  uncle  thoroughly  approved 
the  plan.  With  his  books  he  presented  himself  early  at  the  desk  of 
his  teacher  just  four  days  after  he  had  promised  not  to  come  back. 
"I'm  here  to  work,"  he  said  briefly,  and  was  surprised  to  see  her  burst 
into  tears. 

"You  don't  know  how  the  boys  are  bringing  up  their  work,  and 
yet  I  have  felt  so  selfish  in  asking  you  to  stay  away,"  she  said.  "Harold, 
you  can  help  me  more  than  you  know  if  you  work  resolutely." 

"The  highest  grades  in  the  class,"  said  Mrs.  Gray,  proudly,  when 
the  end  of  the  term  came.  "Harold,  I  can  see  that  I  was  doing  you 
an  injur\'  when  I  encouraged  you  to  shirk.  I  thought  I  was  a  good 
mother,  but  when  I  saw  Fred  Hoskins  and  heard  how  his  mother 
brought  him  up,  it  opened  my  eyes.  I  am  proud  to  think  you  found 
out  for  yourself  the  danger  you  were  in." 

"And  the  best  of  all  is  that  Miss  Davis  is  to  have  her  place  next 
year  at  a  higher  salary.  Her  scholars  all  passed,  and  she  is  very  happy. 
She  gives  me  credit  for  most  of  it,  but  I  don't  deserve  it.  She  says 
the  promise  I  made  and  didn't  keep  has  brought  her  success  and  good 
times,  so  I  ought  to  be  thankful." 


THE  BABYS  PAGE 

Baby  Bill  looks  brave 

and  bold,  dressed  to  go 

out  in  the  cold.     Great 

coat,  cap  and  leggings 

warm,  Billy   does   not 

fear  the  storm.       His 

papa  and  mama  have 

gone  away  on  the  "toot 

toot"  to  sing  with   the 

choir  today,  and  Billy  tries  to  tell  it 

out,  with  halt  a  smile  and  half  a  pout 

Billy  is  a  Christmas  boy,  born  on  that 

glad  day  of  Joy,  and  since  his  birth 

two  years  have  passed.    December  is 

the  twelfth  and  last  of  all  the  months 

that  make  the  year,  and  with  it  comes 

sweet  Christmas  dear. 

Father  in  Heaven,  please  keep  us 
blest.  Baby  Bill  and  all  the  rest. 

~L.   LULA  GREENE  RICHARDS 


JUST  FOR  FUN. 

NOTES  FROM  A  SCHOOL  BOY'S 

DIARY. 

Some  people  do  right  in  a  way  that  makes 
me  want  to  do  wrong. 

I  was  late  this  morning,  but  it  wasn't  Ma's 
fault.  She  called  me,  and  I  turned  over  for  an- 
other snooze.  Think  Til  join  the  "Do-it-now" 
club. 

Teacher  said  the  kind  of  a  house  you 
build  yourself  to-day  is  the  kind  you'll  live  in 
to-morrow.  Wonder  what  she  means?  She 
wasn't  talking  about  brick  houses. 

Billy  Hopkins  drew  a  beautiful  house  on 
his  slate  during  study  hour  this  morning.  My ! 
Billy  can  draw  fine! 

P.  S.  Forgot  to  say  that  Billy  got  zero  in 
his  geography  this  afternoon. 

When  I  was  splitting  wood  to-night   I 

thought    about    that    house-building    teacher 

talked  about.     Wonder  if  splitting  the  wood 

regular  without  being  told'll  help  me  build  my  house  ?    My !  I  hate  to 

split  wood. — Little  Chronicle. 


"What  is  a  baby  ?'  he  asked,  and  then  some  one  gave  the  following 
complicated  definition :  "The  prince  of  wails,  a  dweller  in  lapland,  the 
morning  caller,  noon-day  crawler,  midnight  brawler;  the  only  posses- 
sion that  never  excites  envy ;  a  key  that  opens  the  hearts  of  all  classes, 
the  rich  and  poor  alike,  in  all  countries;  a  stranger  with  unspeakable 
cheek  that  enters  the  house  without  a  stitch  to  his  back,  and  is  received 
with  open  arms." 

While  visiting  in  New  York  City,  a  lady  asked  the  little  son  of  her 
friend,  "Johnny,  do  you  like  going  to  school  ?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  answered  the  truthful  urchin,  "  and  I  like  coming 
home,  too;  but  I  don't  like  staying  there  between  times." 


"Now  how  do  you  suppose  Noah  spent  the  time  in  the  ark  during 
the  flood?"  the  Sunday  school  teacher  asked. 

Trayin'  "  suggested  Willie. 

Fishin' ,  "  ventured   Dick. 
"Humph!"  grunted  Willie,  contemptuously. 

'Twould  be  fine  fishin'  wid  only  two  worms,  wouldn't  it?" 


«i 


H' 


(f. 


1? 


OFFICERS^  DEPARTMENT 

00 


PRIMARY  ASSOCIATION  WORK  FOR  THE  YEAR  1914. 

In  presenting  the  plans  and  outlines  for  the  conduct  of  this  im- 
portant association  for  the  coming  year  we  wish  to  state  that  the 
General  Board  is  impressed  with  the  fact  that  there  is  a  great  and 
steady  development  in  the  work  throughout  the  Church.  Enrollment, 
average  attendance  and  interest  are  on  the  increase  and  time  is  bearing 
witness  to  the  value  of  good  work  accomplished. 

Each  worker  should  seek  first  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  and  add 
thereto  her  very  best  efforts  to  preserve  and  perfect  the  children  of 
Zion.  It  is  no  small  task  that  is  given  to  the  Primary  Officers  but  there 
is  One  ready  to  help  and  encourage  and  what  better  labor  could  be  de- 
sired than  to  follow  where  the  great  Teacher  led  who  delighted  to  bless 
the  children. 

The  present  arrangement  of  work  in  the  Primary  Association  has 
been  in  operation  for  almost  a  year  and  it  is  now  time  to  decide  whether 
it  will  be  advisable  to  continue  along  the  same  lines.  As  far  as  was 
possible  the  General  Board  has  observed  results  and  after  careful 
consideration  has  decided  that  the  present  plan  with  a  few  modifica- 
tions be  used  during  the  year  1914.  The  thought  for  the  year  will 
be  the  building  of  good  character,  each  of  the  four  periods  in  the 
month  to  be  equally  important  in  arousing  good  impulses  and  giving 
plenty  of  opportunity  to  put  such  impulses  into  action. 

In  the  lesson  hour  great  characters  from  the  Old  and  New  Testa- 
ment, the  Book  of  Mormon,  and  Church  History  will  be  used  as  models 
to  inspire  the  children  to  imitate  their  virtues  and  follow  their  examples. 
The  book  Character,  bv  Smiles  will  be  recommended  for  the  teachers 
use,  that  they  may  read,  and  study  it  and  have  a  good  clear  under- 
standing of  the  principles  which  they  desire  to  teach.  Supplementar> 
materials  will  be  given  as  before  to  illustrate  the  meaning  of  the  sub- 
ject. Memory  gems,  poems  and  quotations  give  inspiration  and  comfort 
when  one  is  discouraged  or  downcast,  and  children  should  be  well  sup- 
plied with  such  helps  and  they  are  easily  taught  and  remembered  dur- 
ing the  time  they  are  in  the  Primary  Association.  Be  sure  to  have  the 
memory  work  well  done.  The  story  hour  will  be  used  to  illustrate 
again  the  subject  of  the  month  and  is  for  the  same  purpose  as  the 
illustration  to  a  lesson.  The  memory  work  should  be  repeated  during 
the  hour,  the  teacher  using  discretion  as  to  the  best  place  in  which  to 
introduce  it  and  out  of  her  own  reading  and  experience  should  keep 
the   subject  of  the  month  very  definitely  in  the  minds  of  the  chil- 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  681 

dren.  Refer  to  some  incident  used  in  the  lesson  hour  and  be  prepared 
with  one  that  will  be  new  to  the  class. 

The  busy  hour  and  the  social  hour  are  given  for  the  express  pur- 
pose of  permitting  each  child  to  make  a  practical  application  of  the 
truth  in  the  lessons  which  are  being  taught.  When  the  hands  are  busy 
bc  sure  the  mind  is  busy  too  with  the  right  kind  of  thoughts.  Use 
your  memory  work,  sing  songs  which  emphasize  the  truth  and  when 
circumstances  permit  have  simple  discussions  of  the  principle  in- 
volved. 

The  social  is  especially  important  in  teaching  the  children  lessons 
in  manners  and  deportment  and  the  teachers  should  never  consider  this 
hour  as  a  time  for  pleasure  only;  the  children  must  not  know  that 
they  are  being  disciplined  but  the  discipline  viust  be  there  or  the  hour 
will  be  a  failure. 

PREPARATION  FOR  THE  LESSONS. 

STAKE   BOARDS. 

Each  Stake  Board  is  expected  to  qualify  itself  to  give  help  to 
local  associations  in  the  general  conduct  of  the  four  periods  in  each 
month.  The  Children's  Friend  publishes  the  material  one  month 
before  the  lessons  are  to  be  presented  and  does  this  that  Stake  workers 
may  be  able  to  prepare  and  meet  with  the  local  officers  in  plenty  of 
time  to  go  over  the  work  and  give  any  needed  assistance.  It  is  ad- 
vised that  the  Board  be  divided  into  committees,  each  committee  to  do 
special  work,  for  instance,  one  committee  may  have  charge  of  the 
lesson  hour  and  one  of  the  storv  hour,  etc.  The  Board  should  visit  and 
supervise  the  work^as  it  is  done  in  the  wards,  by  so  doing  will  be 
able  to  judge  of  the  results  with  the  children  and  to  give  personal 
assistance  to  individual  teachers.  Where  it  is  impossible  for  Stake 
Boards  to  meet  with  Local  Officers  on  week  days,  there  will  need  to  be 
some  modifications  of  the  practice  work;  the  busy  hour  and  social  hour 
may  be  discussed  on  a  Sunday  but  never  under  any  circumstances 
should  Primary  Officers  forget  to  honor  the  Sabbath  Day.  The  Pri- 
mary Associations  have  endeavored  to  teach  reverence  and  it  is  very 
much  better  if  all  can  enforce  it  by  example.  In  most  of  the  Stakes  ar- 
rangements can  be  made  for  a  week  day  in  which  to  prepare  the  busy 
wortc  and  practice  games  and  dances.  Where  it  is  absolutely  impossible 
to  meet  on  week  days  this  part  of  the  work  must  be  left  to  the  local 
preparation  meeting. 

THE  NECESSARY  BOOKS. 

Each  Stake  Board  must  be  supplied  with  the  books  that  are  rec- 
ommended for  the  development  of  the  lessons.  The  best  results  will  be 
obtained  when  the  best  efforts  and  materials  are  used.  Most  of  the 
books  needed  for  1914  have  been  in  use  in  many  of  the  associations 


682  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

for  some  time,  but  where  the  supply  is  not  sufficient  arangements 
should  be  made  so  that  each  Primary  is  receiving  all  the  help  possible. 
As  suggested  before  the  work  should  be  divided  among  the  members 
of  the  Stake  Board  and  each  division  should  have  its  own  materials 
with  which  to  do  its  part  successfully. 

In  the  outlines  of  the  year's  work  most,  if  not  all,  books  will  be 
named.  With  outlines  given  for  the  whole  year  and  all  necessary  ma- 
terials at  hand.  Stake  Boards  will  be  able  to  arrange  sustematic  plans  for 
the  giving  of  such  assistance  to  local  workers,  as  will  produce  better 
results  than  ever  in  the  conduct  of  the  Primary  Associations. 

WARD  PREPARATION  MEETINGS. 

Preparation  must  be  the  watch  word  if  success  is  to  be  attained,  and 
the  conduct  of  the  Primary  meeting  should  be  the  result  of  a  prepara- 
tion meeting.  All  the  officers  of  an  association  should  attend  regu- 
larly the  meetings  appointed  by  the  Stake  Board  and  get  all  the  help 
possible  from  that  source.  Arrangements  should  be  made  for  a  repre- 
sentative fo  be  present  in  each  department  at  the  Stake  meeting.  Before 
going  to  this  meeting  the  work  for  the  month  should  be  carefully  read 
and  considered  so  that  each  one  will  be  prepared  to  intelligently  discuss 
the  lessons,  be  able  to  offer  suggestions  and  ask  for  advice.  In  the  local 
preparation  meeting  the  material  given  in  The  Children's  Friend 
with  the  suggestions  received  from  the  Stake  Board  should  be  re- 
viewed and  made  to  fit  the  conditions  in  the  ward.  Every  detail  of  the 
next  meeting  should  be  arranged  for ;  from  the  preparation  of  the  rooms 
to  seeing  the  last  departing  child  safely  started  homeward.  Do  not 
permit  any  hesitation  or  delay.  Be  ready.  Begin  promptly,  proceed 
through  the  program  promptly  and  end  promptly.  Keep  your  program 
within  the  hour  limit  and  send  the  children  home  with  the  desire  for 
more  Primary. 

Preparation  meetings  may  be  held  on  any  day  during  the  week,  ex- 
cept Sunday,  whenever  and  wherever  it  is  most  convenient  for  the 
majority  of  the  workers.  All  the  officers  are  urged  to  observe  the 
sacredness  of  the  Sabbath  day,  to  teach  by  example  as  well  as  precept 
No  handwork,  games,  or  dancing  on  Sunday. 

OUTLINES  FOR  BUSY  HOUR  FOR  THE  YEAR  1914. 

The  work  given  for  the  Busy  Hour  will  be  developed  in  The 
Children's  Friend  one  month  at  a  time.  The  outlines  are  given  that 
the  teachers  may  have  a  preview  of  the  work  for  the  year  and  give 
time  for  the  collection  of  necessary  materials.  The  suggestion  is 
offered  that  the  work  done  by  the  children  be  taken  care  of  so  that,  if 
desirable,  they  may  be  used  in  fairs  or  exhibits  for  the  benefit  of  the 
association. 

The  Summer  Picnic  was  so  successful  last  year  that  it  has  been 
decided  to  repeat  the  program,  with  some  modifications,  for  July  and 
August.     All  grades  will  participate. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  683 


FIRST  GRADE. 


Text  Book:     The  Little  folks  Handy  Book. 

January.     Paper  Flowers,  page  130. 

February.     Kindling-wood  House,  page  73. 

March.     Toy  Furniture  Made  of  Empty  Spools,  page  28. 

April.     Clothespin  Chickens^  page  55. 

May.     More  Spool  Toys,  page  28. 

June.     Playing  Indians,  page  98. 

July  and  August.     Preparations  for  Summer  Picnic. 

September.     Jocko,  the  Monkey,  page  113. 

October.     Scrap  Book,  page  64. 

November.     Gift  Book,  page  64. 

December.     Christmas  Decorations,  page  106. 

SECOND  GRADE. 

Text  Book:     When  Mother  Lets  Us  Sew. 

January.  Needle  Book;  instructions  given  in  The  Children's 
Friend. 

February.     Finishing  Needle  Book. 

March.  Making  of  Work-bag  or  box ;  instructions  given  in  The 
Children's  Friend. 

April.     Finishing  of  bag  or  box. 

May.    A  Bean  Bag;  When  Mother  Lets  Us  Sew,  page  16. 

June.     Filling  and  Finishing  Bean  Bags. 

July  and  August.     Preparation  for  Summer  Picnic. 

September.     Iron  Holder,  page  13. 

October.     Dusting  Cloth,  page  26. 

November.  Knotted  Quilt;  instructions  given  in  The  Children's 
Friend. 

December.     Finishing  Quilt. 

THIRD  GRADE. 

Text  Books:  For  girls,  When  Mother  Lets  Us  Sew;  for  boys, 
The  Little  Folks  Handy  Book. 

The  progfram  is  planned  for  the  boys  to  make  a  doll's  house  and  the 
girls  to  dress  a  doll.  It  will  require  the  year  to  complete  the  work,  and 
if  care  is  used  there  should  be  some  very  beautiful  and  useful  results. 
January-. 

Girls.     Making  bag  or  box  to  hold  sewing  materials,  page  23. 

Boys.  Papering  the  House;  instructions  in  The  Children's 
Friend. 

February. 

Girls.     Making  Bib,  page  29. 

Boys.     Making  Carpets ;  instructions  in  The  Children's  Friend. 


684  THE  CHILDREX'S  FRIEND.  • 

March. 

Girls.  The  Petticoat,  page  33, 

Boys.  Windows;  instructions  in  The  Children's  Fkikm*. 
April. 

Girls.  The  Underbody,  page  45. 

Boys.  Curtains;  instructions  in  The  Children's  Friend. 
May. 

Girls.  Drawers,  page  51. 

Boys.  The  Bed ;  The  Little  Folks  Handy  Book,  page  32. 
June. 

Girls.  Nightgown,  page  55. 

Boys.  Tables,  pages  32  and  35. 
July  and  August. 

The  Summer  Picnic. 
September. 

Girls.  Dress,  page  60. 

Boys.  Chairs,  page  35. 

October. 

Girls.     Cloak,  page  66. 
Boys.     Stoye,  page  33. 

November. 

Girls.  Sacque,  page  71. 

Boys.  Kitchen  Cupboard,  page  34. 
December. 

Girls.  Hood ;  instructions  in  The  Children's  Friend. 

Boys.  Pictures;  instructions  in  The  Children's  Friend. 

FOURTH  GRADE. 

In  giving  the  lessons  on  housekeeping,  the  making  of  a  number  of 
useful  articles  will  be  included,  for  which  instructions  will  be  given  in 
The  Children's  Friend.  The  work  done  by  boys  and  girls  should 
be  taken  care  of  and  a  display  made  at  the  end  of  the  year.  Some  of 
the  things  to  be  suggested  for  the  girls  are :  Dish  cloths,  raffia  napkin 
rings,  dusters,  iron-holders,  clothespins  bag^,  dusting  caps,  aprons, 
work  baskets  or  boxes. 
Text  Books. 

Girls.  '  The  Child  Housekeeper,  price  one  dollar,  mailed  ten  cents 
extra. 

Boys.     Occupations  for  Little  Fingers,  price  one  dollar,  mailed 
ten  cents  extra. 
January. 

Girls.     Fire  Building,  page  15. 

Boys.     Whistle  Chain,  page  9. 
February. 

Girls.     Setting  the  Table,  page  33. 

Boys.     Horse  Reins,  page  10. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  685 

March. 

Girls.  Washing  Dishes,  page  51. 

Roys.  A  Whip,  page  13. 
April. 

Girls.  Bed  Making,  page  69. 

Boys.  A  Hammock,  page  13. 
May. 

Girls.  Sweeping  and   Dusting,  page  87. 

Boys.  Sailor's  Knot  Bag,  page  17. 
June. 

Girls.  Dust  Caps;  instructions  in  TiiE  Children's  Friexd. 

Boys.  Raffia  Picture  Frame,  page  19. 
July  and  August. 

Summer  Picnic. 
Sej)tLmher; 

Girls.  Cleaning,  page  117. 

Roys.  Raffia  Broom  Holder,  page  18. 
Ocif  "her. 

GirU.  The  Laundry,  page  133. 

Boys.  Shopping  Bag,  page  31. 
November. 

Girls.  Mending,  page  159. 

Boys.  Santa  Claus :  The  Little  Folks  Handy  Book,  page  124. 
December. 

Girh.  Care  of  the  Baby,  page  173. 

Boys.  Santa  Claus. 

FIFTH  GRADE. 
Text  Books. 

Girls.     How  to  Make  Baskets ;  Occupations  for  Little   Fingers. 

Boys.     Box  Furniture. 

Realizing  that  there  is  some  difficulty  in  giving  the  boys  and  girls 
of  this  grade  work  that  is  interesting  and  instructive  more  than  one 
suggestion  will  be  given  for  each  period,  so  that  teachers  may  choose 
that  which  will  give  the  best  results.  For  the  boys'  work,  it  is  sug- 
gested, that  some  good  man  or  older  boy  be  called  in  to  assist.  If  the 
box  furniture  is  desirable  a  carpenter  will  be  necessary.  Last  year 
one  ward  reported  that  the  services  of  a  carpenter  was  secured  by  the 
boys  themselves  who  each  paid  a  small  sum  to  defray  the  cost  of  teacher 
and  materials.  H  desired  a  box  form  mav  be  selected  bv  teacher  and 
class  which  will  need  a  number  of  Busy  Hours  in  which  to  complete  it. 
Januar}'. 

Girls.     Knotted  Bag  for  Twine  :  How  to  Make  Baskets,  page  15  :  or 
A  Bead  Chain,  Occupations  for  Little  Fingers,  page  86. 

Boys.     Plant  Box,  Box  FurnitiH*e,  page  13 ;  or 

Wood  Chopping;  instructions  in  The  Children's  Friend. 
Fcbruarv. 

Girl*;.     Raffia  Mat,  How  to  Make  Baskets,  page  21 ;  or 


686  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Paper  Dolls,  Occupations  for  Little  Hands,  pages  46  and  50. 
Boys.     Scrap  Box,  Box  Furniture,  page  32 ;  or 

A  Door  Mat;  instructions  in  The  Chile^ren's  Friend. 

March. 

Girls.     Whisk-broom  holder,  How  to  Make  Baskets,  page  23 ;  or 

A  Daisy  Chain,  Occupations  for  Little  Fingers,  page  89. 
Boys.     Kitchen  Stool,  Box  Furniture,  page  33;  or 

Spring  Cleaning;  instructions  in  The  Children's  Friend. 

April. 

Girls.     Finish  Whisk-broom  holder;  or 

A  Pin-wheel,  Occupations  for  Little  Fingers,  page  49. 
Boys.     Finish  Kitchen  Stool;  or 

Spring  Gardens;  instructions  in  The  Children's  Friend. 

May. 

Girls.     Simple  Basket,  How  to  Make  Baskets,  page  27 ;  or 

Cover  for  Pillow,  Occupations  for  Little  Fingers,  page  111. 
Boys.     Coal  or  Paper  Box,  Box  Furniture,  page  45 ;  or 

A  Teeter  Board ;  instructions  in  The  Children's  Friend. 

June. 

Girls.     Finish  Simple  Basket;  or 

Finish  Cover  for  Pillow. 
Boys.     Finish  Coal  or  Paper  Box;  or 

A  Teeter  Board. 

July  and  August. 

The  Summer  Picnic. 
September. 

Girls.  Work  Basket,  How  to  Make  Baskets,  page  65 ;  or 

A  Baby's  Sacque,  Occupations  for  Little  Fingers,  page  118. 

Boys.  Small  Wall  Rack,  Box  Furniture,  page  59 ;  or 

A  Basket,  Occupations  for  Little  Fingers,  page  150. 

October. 

Girls.     Continue  Basket;  or 

Finish  Baby's  Sacque. 
Boys.     Continue  Wall  Rack;  or  / 

Finish  the  Basket. 

November. 

Girls.     Continue  Basket;  or 

Begin  Baby's  Hood,  Occupations  for  Little  Fingers,  page  122. 
Boys.     Continue  Wall  Rack;  or 

Begin  Holder  for  Brushes;  instructions  in  The  Children's 

Friend. 

December. 

Girls  and  Boys.     Finish  all  work  on  hand. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  687 


TABLEAU  FOR  A  CHRISTMAS  ENTERTAINMENT. 

Nothing  is  more  generally  attractive,  both  to  children  and  to  adults, 
than  tableaux,  or  living  pictures,  as  they  are  frequently  called,  and  with 
the  limitless  possibilities  of  crepe  paper  it  is  now  very  easy,  with  com- 
paratively little  expense  or  trouble,  to  arrange  effective  costumes. 
Scenery  may  be  more  or  less  elaborate,  but  it  can  even  be  dispensed 
with  entirely,  substituting  portieres  of  any  rich  dark  color  for  a  back- 
ground. If  these  cannot  be  had,  paste  paper  or  cambric,  preferably  dark 
red,  over  clothes-horses.  If  possible,  have  in  front  of  the  pictures  a 
large  wooden  frame,  across  which  tarletan  is  stretched,  or  mosquito 
netting  without  the  plaid  will  answer.  Give  the  wood  a  coat  of  gold 
paint.  If  that  cannot  be  had  use  yellow.  The  frame  should,  of  course, 
be  large  enough  to  enclose  the  largest  of  the  tableaux.  Place  it  from 
four  to  six  feet  in  front  of  them. 

Choose  from  the  Scriptures  scenes  in  which  one  or  more  children 
appear,  as  many  as  the  time  allotted  for  the  tableaux  will  permit.  For 
instance,  Hagar  departing  with  Ishmael  from  Abraham's  home.  The 
tent  can  be  made  of  two  clothes-horses  covered  with  gray  or  white 
blankets,  or  sheets,  or  white  coverlets  may  be  stretched  over  it.  At 
the  opening  appears  Sarah's  figure  in  a  loose  white  robe.  Hagar,  hold- 
ing in  one  hand  a  brown  jug  and  leading  Ishmael  by  the  other,  stands 
with  her  head  turned  slightly  back  toward  Sarah,  while  Ishmael,  as  if 
reluctant  to  leave  the  tent,  drags  behind,  pulling  at  her  hand.  Hagar 
and  Ishmael  both  wear  lead-colored  costumes  and  sandals. 

The  daughter  of  Jepthah,  coming  out  with  her  maidens  to  meet 
her  father,  all  the  young  girls  dressed  in  white  robes  with  garlands  of 
flowers,  and  holding  aloft  musical  instruments  while  standing  in  the 
attitude  of  dancing,  would  be  an  admirable  group. 

The  Egyptian  princess  and  her  maidens  watching  the  cradle  of 
Moses  is  a  very  effective  tableau.  Green  crepe  paper  can  be  used  to 
represent  the  bank  of  the  river,  and  a  large  shallow  basket,  in  which 
is  a  doll  nearly  covered  by  its  long  white  robe,  should  be  placed  at  the 
back  of  this  picture,  the  princess  and  one  or  more  attendants  standing 
in  front  nearest  to  the  audience. 

Joseph  about  to  be  thrown  into  the  pit  by  his  brothers  can  also 
be  given,  the  boy  in  his  "coat  of  many  colors,"  which  may  be  repre- 
sented by  a  white  robe  striped  with  crepe  paper  in  different  colors 
and  girdled  at  the  waist  by  a  long  sash  which  rriay  be  of  cheese-cloth  if 
silk  is  not  at  hand.  Or  the  upper  part  of  the  robe  may  be  white 
and  the  bottom  trimmed  with  four  or  five  bands,  each  a  different 
color.  The  brothers — of  course  much  older — wear  plain  gray  or  brown 
costumes. 

David  in  a  white  robe  posed  with  his  sling,  in  which  he  is  just 
fitting  a  pebble  to  hurl  at  Goliath,  is  excellent  for  a  picture  containing 
a  single  figure.     He  may  also  appear  a  second  time  seated  with  his 


688  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

liarp  outside  the  tent  in  which  Saul  is  supposed  to  be.  But  it  wtnikl 
he  far  more  effective  to  represent  the  interior  of  the  tent,  which  can 
be  niade  of  white  sheets.  A  rug  on  the  floor  piled  with  cushion::. 
on  which  sits  Saul  in  an  Eastern  costume  that  can  be  made  of  gay-hued 
shawls  or  Bagdad  couch-covers  or  portieres.  He  -wears  a  gilt  paper 
crown  and  leans  his  head  on  hisiiand,  the  elbow  resting  on  his  knee. 
David  should  be  in  white,  standing  with  his  harp  before  the  king. 

The  figure  of  the  infant  Samuel  at  prayer  can  easily  be  repre- 
sented— the  little  white  robe  made  of  white  cheese-cloth.  Have  a  fair- 
haired  child,  if  possible.  If  the  hair  can  be  powdered  perfectly  white  to 
give  this  tableau  the  appearance  of  a  statue  it  will  introduce  variety. 

The  closing  tableau,  if  the  entertainment  is  given  near  the  Christ- 
mas season,  might  be  copied  from  any  of  the  jiaintings  representing 
the  manger,  or  the  adoration  of  the  Magi;  or,  if  this  is  desired,  let  it 
end  with  a  group  of  shepherds,  one  or  two  of  them  mere  boys,  in  robes 
of  brown  or  gray — ^the  boys  may  l)e  in  white  to  render  the  tableau  more 
effective—all  with  the  shepherd's  crooks,  their  eyes  lifted  and  turned 
in  the  same  direction.  Call  this  tableau  the  "Star  of  Bethlehem," 
especially  if  the  star  cannot  be  represented ;  but  in  buildings  lighted 
by  elecricity  this  can  be  done  without  difficulty. 


.   PROUD  MOTHER  AND  IIEH  SEVEN   DAUGHTERS." 


LESSON  DEPARTMENT 


SuOject  for  tbc  /©ontb:    Influence  ot  Cbatactcr. 

Aim. 

To  follow  in  the  steps  of  the  great  and  good  will  help  to  mark  the 
path  to  Heaven. 

SUGGESTIONS  FOR  ALL  THE  TEACHERS. 

?^ind  out  as  much  as  possible  of  the  person  or  persons  used  a^ 
models  to  illustrate  the  influence  of  character.  Read  carefully  what 
Smiles  says  and  in  presenting  the  subject  to  the  children  use  in  your 
own  words  some  of  his  arguments  to  show  how  the  model  influences 
the  world  for  good ;  notice  what  Smiles  describes  as  the  qualifications 
of  a  good  character  and  how  many  of  them  were  or  are  the  character- 
istics of  the  model  used :  for  instance:  Smiles  says  that  being  kind  and 
loving  in  the  home  is  an  attribute  of  a  good  character;  does  the  model 
used  have  that  disposition?  If  so,  what  does  such  a  lesson  teach? 
Tak<?  other  qualifications  and  use  in  same  way,  being  careful  to  make 
thorn  fit  in  the  lives  and  circumstances  of  the  children. 

■ 

For  the  Lesson  Hour  emphasis  should  be  given  to  the  consideration 
of  the  principle  to  be  taught.  This  hour  is  the  opportunity  to  arouse 
right  motives  and  give  clear  ideas  of  right  doing.  Each  teacher  should 
try  to  represent  in  her.  own  character  the  truth  of  the  lesson  and  be 
prepared  to  give  the  theory  of  it  with  respect  and  reverence.  It  is  an 
important  undertaking  to  teach  great  principles,  and  when  one  assumes 
the  responsihilitv  the  personal  attitude  has  much  to  do  with  the  results 
to  be  desired.  Supplementary  materials  will  be  given  to  emphasize  the 
truth  to  be  taught,  but  there  will  be  no  moral  stories  given  for  the 
lesson  TInnr.  When  it  seems  necessary  to  add  something  more  to 
complete  the  lesson  the  teacher  should  use  her  discretion  by  using 
questions  or  an  incident  to  enforce  the  truth  of  the  lesson.  Personal 
experiences  and  testimonies  will  be  of  the  greatest  value  when  such  a 
finish  is  necessary  to  a  lesson. 

The  memory  gems  and  poems  are  to  be  used  at  each  session,  the 
teachers  should  memorize  them  and  repeat  at  any  opportune  time ;  the 
children  shon-ld  be  encouraged  to  repeat  them  with  the  teacher,  in  ran- 
cert  and  alone. 


690  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

LESSON  ONE. 

The  Lesson  Hour. 

FIRST  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Bible  Story :  The  Birth  of  Christ.    Matthew  1 :18-25  ;  Luke  2 :17. 
Life  of  Christ,  by  Weed,  chapters  2  and  3. 

Teachers  Reading:     Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  1. 

Memory  Gem. 

Songs. 

Pictures. 

Finger  Play. 

Poem. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  The  connection  between  the 
story  of  the  birth  of  Jesus  and  Dr.  Smiles  ideals  of  the  influence 
of  character,  will  be  found  in  a  study  of  the  humble  surroundings 
of  the  birth  place :  in  the  characters  of  Joseph  and  Mary ;  the  shepherds 
and  the  wise  men  and  the  love  which  the  Baby  Jesus  brought  unto 
His  little  home  at  Nazareth,  and  which,  later,  was  to  spread  over  the 
whole  world.  Notice  the  influence,  for  good,  which  these  people  and 
places  bear;  consider  them  all  and  know  how  and  why  they  represent 
the  ideals  which  are  described  in  Character. 

Wherever  there  are  homes  with  little  children  the  knowledge  of  the 
great  Baby  should  come  and  the  desire  aroused  to  be  like  Him  to  make 
home  a  place  of  peace  and  joy.  Pictures  of  the  Baby  J^sus  and  of  other 
babies  should  be  used  during  the  talk  dnd  the  children  encouraged  to 
tell  how  they  will  try  to  be  good  children. 

It  is  suggested  that  the  "Rest  Exercise  and  Prayer"  be  used  for 
every  session  during  the  year. 

It  is  recommended  that  the  teachers  in  this  gfrade  be  supplied  with 
the  set  of  colored  pictures,  representing  incidents  from  the  life  of  Christ, 
which  may  be  purchased  from  the  general  office  for  ten  cents  per  set. 
As  they  are  used  they  should  be  mounted  on  cardboard  and  hung  on 
the  wall  where  the  children  can  see  them  and  where  they  may  be  used 
for  review  work. 

Rest  Exercise  and  Prayer.  The  motions  are  suggested  by  the 
words.  / 

"Two  hands  now  let  us  show ; 
Two  hands  bring  down  just  so; 
Right  hand  right  things  must  do, 
Left  hand  must  keep  it  too, 
Help  others  on  their  way, 
Keep  busy  all  the  day. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  691 

Now  fold  them  as  we  pray; 
And  think  of  what  we  say. 
Close  all  the  eyes  just  so, 
With  heads  all  bended  low ; 
Repeating  word  by  word, 
This  prayer  to  our  dear  Lord." 

Repeat  reverently.    "Our  Father,  which  art  in  Heaven/*  etc. 
Song,    "Jesus  Once  was  A  Little  Child,"  Primary  Song  Book, 
No.  16. 

Memory  Gem. 

The  world  is  full  of  beauty, 
»  Like  the  world  above. 

And  if  we  do  our  duty, 
It  will  be  full  of  love. 

— ^Adapted. 

Finger  Play.     "The  Little  Men,"  Poulsson's  Finger  Plays. 

Poem. 

"How  can  a  little  child  be  merry 
In  snowy,  blowy  January? 
By  each  day,  doing  what  is  best, 
By  thinking,  working  for  the  rest. 
So  can  a  little  child  be  merry 
In  snowy,  blowy  January." 

Song.    "The  Little  New  Year,"  The  Primary  Song  Book,  No  41. 

SECOND  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Bible:  Story  of  David.  First  and  Second  Books  of  Samuel;  or 
The  Shepherd  Boy,  Children  of  the  Bible  Series  No.  7. 

Teachers  Reading:     Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  1. 

Memory  Gem. 

Songs. 

Pictures. 

Poem. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  Tn  the  life  of  David  will  be  found 
a  number  of  incidents  which  illustrate  the  ideals  of  good  character  as 
described  by  Smiles.  The  story  of  the  Shepherd  Boy  is  always  at- 
tractive to  children  and  is  an  excellent  model.  .After  a  careful  reading 
of  the  chapter  in  Character,  find  out  in  how  manv  ways  David  rep- 
resents the  characteristics  of  a  great  character,  then  select  such  of 
them  as  may  be  understood  by  the  children  and  which  thev  can  put  into 
practice,  for  instance :     If  the  book  "The  Shepherd  Boy"  is  used,  show 


692  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

the  pictures  of  David  caring  for  the  sheep  and,  in  your  own  words,  use 
the  paragraph  on  page  14  of  Character  beginning  "Commonplace 
though  it  may  appear.'*  or ;  if  the  Bible  is  used  study  the  incident  as 
told  in  I  Samuel  and  16  chapter.  The  point  of  connection  with  the  chil- 
dren being  the  obedience  to  parents  and  willingness  to  do  hard,  rough 
work.  The  incident  of  singing  for  the  King,  I  Samuel  16:21-23,  may  be 
used  to  show  how  children  may  contribute  to  the  pleasure  of  parents 
and  older  people.  Notice  what  Smiles  says  about  Thomas  Sackville, 
page  14.  Be  sure  to  tell  how  David  reverenced  the  priesthood,  I  Sam- 
uel 26th  chapter.     Character,  page  26. 

If  possible,  use  other  pictures  which  show  children  and  adults 
'    doing  the  things  which  have  been  emphasized  in  the  lesson. 

Memory  Gem. 

"Here's  a  New  Year  wish  for  all: 
May  we  keep  growing,  you  and  I, 
Learing  sweet  truths  in  sweetest  way, 
Living  in  sunshine  every  day." 

Songs.  "The  Little  New  Year,"  Primary  Song  Book,  "I'm  Not 
Too  Young  For  God  to  See."    Primary  Song  Book. 

Pictures.  Selected  from  Old  Testament  Pictures  or  use  those  in 
the  book  "The  Shepherd  Boy." 

Poem.  A  New- Year  Song. 

\^'hcn  the  vear  is  new,  mv  dear 

When  the  Year  is  new. 
Let  ns  make  a  promise  here, 

Little  I  and  vou. 
Not  to  fall  a-ouarrelin,s^ 
Over   every  tiny   thing. 
But  sing  and  smile,  smile  and  sing 

All  the  glad  year  through. 

As  the  year  goes  by,  my  dear. 

As  the  year  goes  by, 
Let  us  keep  our  sky  swept  clear, 

Little  you  and   I. 
Sweep  up  every  cloudy  scowl, 
Every  little  thunder  growl. 
And  live  and  laugh,  laugh  and  live, 

'Neath  a  cloudless  sky. 

When  the  vear  is  old,  my  dear. 

When  the  vear  is  old. 
Let  me  never  doubt  or  fear, 

Tlioucrh  the  davs  G:row  cold. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND,  <V3 

Loving  thoughts  are  always  warm, 
Merry  hearts  ne'er  know  a  storm ; 
Come  ice  and  snow,  so  love's  dear  glow 
Turns  all  our  gray  to  gold. 

— Laura  E.  Richards. 

THIRD  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Bible  Story:     Genesis,  chapters  6  to  9. 

Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  I, 

Memory  Gem. 

Poem. 

Pictures. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  If  it  is  possible  to  get  them  use  pic- 
tures telling  story  of  Noah  and  some  which  show  other  people  illustrat- 
ing by  their  actions  or  history,  the  same  characteristics. 

Begin  by  giving  in  your  own  words  a  description  of  the  wickedness 
of  the  people.  Genesis  6:1-8;  Notice  what  Smiles  say  on  page  41. 
Explain  in  simple  words,  necessity  at  this  time  of  some  great  man  to 
do  the  will  of  our  Father  in  Heaven.  Show  picture  of  Noah  and  de- 
scribe his  character,  Genesis  7:1;  notice  his  humble  work,  obedience, 
patience  and  meekness,  see  Character,  page  19  beginning  with  "In  the 
affairs  of  life."  and  on  page  20  down  to  "really  deserve."  Help  the 
children  to  understand  the  difficulties  which  Noah  had  to  meet  and 
overcome.  Study  what  Smiles  says  about  the  cultivation  of  a  good 
character,  page  21  and- 22,  and  let  the  children  help  to  outline  the  daily 
duties  which,  when  well  performed  will  cultivate  good  character.  From 
your  study  of  Character,  help  the  children  to  feel  the  debt  which  all 
owe  to  great  people,  who  like  Noah,  left  to  us  examples  of  worthy 
life  which  all  should  remember  and  try  to  imitate.  Pictures  of  George 
Washington,  Abraham  Lincoln,  and  the  Prophet  Joseph  Smith,  may 
f>e  shown  and  the  children  encouraged  to  tell  why  they  were  great  and 
why  they  are  good  examples. 

Memory  Gem. 

"The  very  flowers  that  bend  and  meet, 
In  sweetening  others  grow  more  sweet." 
Poem. 

We  are  going  to  think  little  about  number  one ; 

We  are  going  to  help  someone  else  to  have  fun ; 

We  are  not  going  to  speak  of  the  faults  of  a  friend, 

Until  we  are  readv  our  own  to  amend. 

We  are  going  to  laugh  with,  and  not  at,  other  folk, 

And  never  hurt  anyone,  "just  for  a  joke ;" 

We  are  going  to  hide  trouble  and  show  only  cheer — 

Then  surely  we'll  help  make  a  Happy  New  Year! 

— Adapted. 


694  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 


FOURTH  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Book  of  Mormon  Story.  Leaving  Jerusalem  and  How  Nephi 
Obtained  the  Book.  I  Nephi  chapters  1,  2,  3, 4  and  5 ;  or  Mother  Stories 
from  the  Book  of  Mormon  by  W.  A.  Moj-ton.  pages  1  to  IL  Char- 
acter, by  Smiles,  chapter  1. 

Memory  Gem. 

Poem. 

Pictures. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher.  After  a  careful  reading  of  the  first 
chapter  in  Character  make  a  list  of  the  qualifications  which  are  spoken 
of  as  belonging  to  a  good  character.  Then  take  the  lives  of  Lehi  and 
Nepfii  and  see  how  many  of  these  virtues  they  possessed,  and  how  they 
used  them.  Consider  carefully  the  story  from  the  Book  of  Mormon, 
and  the  principles  described  by  Smiles,  then  in  your  own  words  tell 
simply  and  briefly  the  wonderful  way  in  which  the  Book  of  Mormon 
comes  to  us.  the  influence  for  good  it  exerts  now,  so  many,  many  years 
after  it  was  written  and  buried  in  the  Hill  Cumorah.  (Use  picture  of 
Hill  Cumorah).  Explain  the  faithfulness  and  courage  of  Lehi  and 
his  family  in  giving  obedience  to  the  divine  commandments.  The  re- 
lation of  the  story  to  the  lives  of  the  children  will  be  found  by  proving, 
with  the  help  of  Smiles,  that  the  little  everyday  duties  are  the  important 
things  to  remember  and  do. 

Memory  Gem. 

Remember  that  if  the  opportunities  for  great  deeds  should  never 
come,  the  opportunity  for  good  deeds  is  renewed  for  you  day  by  day. 
The  thing  for  us  to  long  for  is  the  goodness,  not  the  glory. — F.  W. 
Farrar,  D.  D. 

Pictures.  In  Mother  Stories  from  the  Book  of  Mormon  and  The 
Birth  of  Mormonism  in  Picture. 

Poem.  A   GENTLE    HINT. 

All  over  the  country  on  New  Year's  Day 

Good  resolutions  are  given  away. 

There  are  more  than  enough  for  every  one ; 

You  can  have  a  good  measure,  a  peck  or  a  ton. 

Take  a  dozen  my  laddie  and  lass 

But  handle  them  gently,  they're  as  brittle  as  glass. 

If  you  care  for  them  daily  it  will  not  be  long 

Before  they'll  be  growing  quite  hardy  and  strong; 

And  when  thcv  are  older  they'll  take  care  of  vou. 

For  then  they'll  be  habits,  and  good  habits,  too. 

—Anna  M.  Pratt. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  695 

FIFTH  GRADE. 

Materials  for  the  Lesson. 

Great  Leaders  in  the  History  of  the  Church :    The  Prophet  Joseph 
Smith.     See  any  good  Church  History. 
Character,  by  Smiles,  chapter  1. 
Memory  Gem. 
Pictures. 
Poem. 
Readings. 

Suggestions  for  the  Teacher,  Smiles  tells  us  of  the  virtues  which 
go  towards  the  making  of  a  good  character  and  illustrates  his  argu- 
ment by  describing  the  attributes  of  a  number  of  famous  people  who 
have  done  much  to  influence  the  world  for  good.  The  Prophet  Joseph 
Smith  is  the  greatest  man  since  the  days  of  the  Savior  and  the  children 
should  be  helped  to  understand  and  appreciate  his  splendid  character- 
istics. 

Notice  what  Smiles  says  about  genius  and  character,  page  13.  Re- 
late this  statement  to  the  life  of  the  Prophet  by  describing  his  humble 
birth,  surroundings  and  opportunities.  Read  on  page  14  what  is  said 
about  commonplace  duties,  tell  how  the  young  boy  Joseph  worked  to 
help  in  the  maintenance  of  the  home,  use  in  your  own  words  Smiles 
argument  in  which  he  gives  honor  to  every-day  duties.  On  page  15 
of  Character  a  number  of  virtues  are  described,  all  of  which  were  p>art 
of  the  Prophet's  nature.  Describe  as  many  of  these  virtues  as  you 
have  time  for,  giving  illustrations  from  the  Prophet's  life,  and  add  to 
them  the  beautiful  words  of  praise  given  by  Smiles  to  goodness  of 
character. 

Memory  Gem.  "The  real  character  of  a  person  is  that  which  goes 
through  the  crucible  and  comes  out  pure  gold." 

Pictures.  The  Birth  of  Mormonism  told  in  Picture ;  or.  From 
Plowboy  to  Prophet,  by  Wm.  A.  Morton. 

Poem.  EXAMPLE. 

"Whene'er  a  noble  deed  is  wrought, 
Whene'er  is  spoken  a  noble  thought, 
Our  hearts  in  glad  surprise 
To  higher  levels  rise. 

Honor  to  those  whose  words  or  deeds 
Thus  help  us  in  our  daily  needs. 
And  by  their  wondrous  overflow 
Raise  us  from  what  is  low." 

— Selected. 


696  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

Reading. 

m 

"Boys  and  girls,  don't  wait  until  youVe  grown  up  to  decide  what 
you  will  be,  or  what  you  will  do  to  help  on  the  world's  work.  Instead 
of  building  castles  in  the  air,  and  imagining  yourselves  heroes  and 
heroines  of  impossible  situations,  in  an  impossible  world,  be  every-day 
heroes  and  heroines  in  a  real,  every-day  world.  The  boys  and  g^rls 
of  today  will  be  the  men  and  women  of  tomorrow.  Begin,  then,  today, 
to  build  the  foundations  of  your  castle,  not  on  the  air,  but  on  solid 
ground ;  and  when  the  morrow  comes,  it  will  find  you  ready.  Resolve 
early  in  life  what  you  will  be,  and  your  usefulness  to  the  world  will  be 
doubled.  Don't  imagine  you  are  too  young.  Thomas  A.  Edison,  the 
great  electrician,  was  making  experiments  in  chemistry  at  twelve  years 
of  age.  Francis  E.  Willard,  the  great  temperance  leader,  with  the 
help  of  her  brother  Oliver,  started  a  paper  at  fourteen,  and  the  boy  and 
girl  talked  frequently  of  what  they  would  be  and  do  when  they  were 
grown  up.  The  great  MacMahon  was  told,  when  a  poor  boy,  that  he 
could  be  anything  he  wanted  to  be,  if  he  only  kept  working  and  think- 
ing about  it.  'Then  I'll  be  a  marshal  of  France,'  said  the  boy,  and  he 
became  not  only  a  marshal  of  France,  but  President  also.  Lucy  Stone, 
the  great  champion  of  higher  education  and  equality  for  women,  made 
up  her  mind,  when  but  a  tiny  bit  of  a  girl,  that  she  would  go  to  college 
and  graduate,  and  she  did.  She  picked  berries  and  nuts  and  sold  them 
to  buy  books,  and  eventually  was  graduated  at  Oberlin,  the  only  college 
then  open  to  women." — Selected. 

Reading, 

"Decide  now  what  you  will  be,  what  you  will  do.  Don't  dream. 
Think  and  work. 

"Don't  think  you  can  fret  and  chafe  under  your  present  conditions, 
your  work  and  surroundings  for  years,  and  that  some  day  work  and 
environments  will  suddenly  be  changed  just  to  suit  your  tastes  and 
you  will  be  happy  for  ever  after.  Begin  inside  with  the  happiness 
problem.  If  you  do  not  have  what  you  like  altogether,  find  something, 
if  only  a  small  part  of  your  daily  routine,  that  is  worth  liking,  and 
work  away  at  improving  the  other  parts.  Be  very  happy  over  some- 
thing for  tlie  sake  of  the  habit.  Make  yourself  useful,  agreeable,  kind, 
even  at  the  cost  of  a  struggle  with  your  own  temperament.  Give,  give : 
give  more  than  you  get  or  can  expect  to  get.  Find  out  your  favorite 
pastime,  your  favorite  accomplishment,  your  favorite  work,  and  enter 
into  all  of  them  with  energy.  Fill  vour  life  full  of  regular  occupation, 
some  work,  some  play,  and  you  will  find  that  you  needn't  worry  about 
having  everything  to  your  liking." — Selected. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  697 

LESSON  TWO. , 

The  Story  Hour. 

Suggestions  for  all  the  Teachers,  The  Story  Hour  is  for  the  pur- 
pose of  making  clear  and  giving  emphasis  to  the  truth  which  is  to  be 
taught.     The  time  should  be  used  as  in  the  Lesson  Hour,  for  instance : 

The  teacher  should  review  briefly  the  main  points  which  have  been 
developed  in  the  Lesson  Hour ;  questions  should  be  asked  and  incidents, 
(preferably  of  personal  experience)  added.  After  all  the  memory  work 
has  been  repeated,  the  stories  should  be  read  or  related  to  complete  the 
thought. 

Stories  will  be  selected  to  fit  as  nearly  as  possible  the  subjects  but 
each  teacher  is  invited  to  change  or  add  to  the  selections,  given  in  The 
Children's  Friend,  or  if  better  stories  are  found,  to  substitute 

At  least  one  story  will  be  given  for  each  grade  each  month  in  The 
Children's  Friend;  references  will  be  given  from  back  numbers  of  the 
magazine  and  books  that  have  been  recommended  in  the  past.  For 
those  who  would  prefer  to  use  a  good  long  story,  one  that  can  be  divided 
into  sections,  to  be  either  read  or  related,  a  number  will  be  given  in 
each  grade  from  which  a  choice  can  be  made.  In  the  first  and  second 
grades  books  with  pictures  should  be  used  as  it  will  be  better  for  th^ 
children  to  have  variety  rather  than  a  story  to  occupy  all  the  time. 
The  teacher  should  know  the  story  very  well  and  adapt  it  to  the  lesson 
to  be  taught  and  to  the  age  and  understanding  of  the  class.  It  will  help 
if  the  teachers  practice  the  reading,  to  know  where  and  how  to  skip  dry 
places,  to  leave  out  or  change  hard  words,  to  know  how  much  can  be 
read  in  the  time  allowed  for  the  story,  and  to  make  the  changes  needed 
so  that  the  story  will  fit  the  subject  taught  and  be  within  the  under- 
standing of  the  class. 

FIRST  GRADE. 

Rest  Exercise  and  Prayer. 

Songs. 

Memorv  Gem. 

Review  Lesson  Hour  with  use  of  pictures. 

Finger  Play. 

Poem. 

Story  Books. 

Babv  Finger  Plavs. 
The  Riddle  A.  B.  C 
The  Cosy  Comer  Book. 
Any  one  of  these  three  books  may  be  chosen  and  used  for  the  year. 
They  are  well  illustrated  and  will  be  found  instructive  and  interesting. 
If  either  of  the  first  two  named  are  chosen  they  will  be  found  useful 


698  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

for  repetition  work.       The  children  will  delight  to  repeat,  with  the 
teachers,  the  words  as  they  are  shown  the  pictures. 


Short  Stories.     In  this  issue,  "The  Snow  Man." 
Pippa,"  from  Child  Stories  from  the  Masters. 
Jimmie  at  Home,"  The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  5,  page  5. 

SECOND  GRADE. 

Usual  opening  exercises. 

Review  Lesson  Hour  with  the  assistance  of  pictures.  Use  per- 
sonal experiences  and  testimonies  wherever  suitable. 

Repeat  in  concert  and  alone  the  memory  gem  and  poem. 

Story  Books. 

Sheaves  of  Gold. 
The  Little  Lame  Prince. 
Among  the  Giants. 
The  Children  of  The  Bible  Series. 
A  choice  may  be  made  of  one  of  the  four,  above  named,  and  used 
for  the  year.     The  story  or  stories  should  be  divided  and  a  portion 
read  or  related  during  the  Story  Hour. 

Short  Stories, 

In  this  issue,  "Two  Ways  to  Travel." 

From  Boston  Collection  of  Kindergarten  Stories: 

"Naughty  Little  Gold  Fingers,"  page  10. 

"The  Three  Gold  Fishes,"  page  32. 

From  The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  5 : 

"Baby  Connor's  Sled,"  page  10. 

"How  Johnnie  Was  Punished,*'  page  44. 

THIRD  GRADE.. 

Usual  opening  exercises. 

Review  of  truth  as  developed  in  the  Lesson  Hour.  Use  pictures 
and  let  children,  with  the  help  of  questions,  do  as  much  as  possible  of 
the  review.  Repeat  as  recitation  and  in  concert  the  memory  gem  and 
poem  and  have  story  or  stories  prepared  to  continue  thought  on  the 
truth  of  the  lesson. 

Story  Books. 

Little  Lord  Fauntleroy. 
Monarch,  the  Big  Bear. 
The  Children's  Dickens. 
One  of  the  above  may  be  chosen  and  used  for  the  year  as  a  con- 
tinued story. 

Short  Stories.     In  this  issue.  "The  Story  of  Sparkle." 
"Winning  the  Big  Initial,"  The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  8,  page 
656. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  699 

FOURTH  GRADE. 

Usual  opening  exercises. 

Review  of  the  truth  as  developed  in  the  Lesson  Hour.  Use 
pictures  and  questions  and  encourage  the  children  to  do  the  reviewing. 
Give  opportunities  to  members  to  bear  testimony  to  the  help  they  have 
received  from  people  of  good  character ;  the  teacher  may  find  it  helpful 
to  add  some  of  her  own  experiences.  Repeat  as  recitation  or  in  con- 
cert the  memory  gem  and  poem.  Be  sure  the  story  or  stories  are 
arranged  to  impress  the  truth  in  the  lesson. 

Story  Books, 

The  Widow  0*Callaghan*s  Boys. 

Heidi. 

Grandfather's  Chair. 

Rebecca  of  Sunnybrook  Farm. 
If  a  long  story  is  desired  make  a  choice  from  the  above  list  and 
use  as  a  continued  story. 

Short  Stories, 

In  this  issue,  "He  Used  His  Opportunity.'* 

From  The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  11 : 

"How  the  Boy  Without  a  Reference  Found  One,"  page  661. 

"A  Polishing  Process,"  page  660. 

FIFTH  GRADE. 

Usual  opening  exercises. 

Review  of  the  truth  as  developed  in  the  Lesson  Hour.  Use  ques- 
tions and  pictures.  Add  personal  experiences  and  testimonies  to  the 
truth  in  the  lesson  and  encourage  the  class  to  do  the  same.  As  you 
read  or  relate  the  story  or  stories  watch  for  opportunities  to  emphasize 
the  lesson  to  be  taught. 

Story  Books. 
Little  Men. 
Little  Women. 
Helen  Over  the  Wall. 
Rick  Dale. 
Timothy's  Quest. 
Swiss  Family  Robinson. 
Uncle  Nick  Among  the'  Shoshones. 
If  a  long  story  is  desired  one  of  the  above  mav  be  chosen ;  they 
are  all  of  good  quality  as  well  as  very  interesting. 

Short  Stories, 

In  this  issue,  "Harold's  Promise." 
From  The  Children's  Friend,  vol.  11: 
"How  Harry  Won  Blackbird,'^  page  20. 
"When  Greek  Meets  Greek,"  page  119. 


700  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

LESSON  THREE. 

The  Busy  Hour. 

Suggestions  for  All  the  Teachers. 

Each  grade  to  begin  with  the  usual  opening  exercises.  The  mem- 
ory gem  and  poem  should  be  repeated,,  and  a  few  questions  asked  by 
the  teachers  to  revive  and  impress  the  truth  as  developed  in  the  Lesson 
Hour.  All  materials  should  be  on  hand,  in  convenient  places,  and  every 
preparation  so  completed  that  there  will  be  no  waste  of  time. 

THE  FIRST  GRADE. 

PAPER  FLOWERS. 

Text  Book — The  Little  Folks*  Handy  Book,  page  130. 

Suggestions:  In  this  grade  the  children  must  not  be  expected  to 
do  very  much,  the  work  should  be  so  prepared  that  their  share  will  be 
helping  to  finish  what  the  teacher  has  begun.  Be  careful  that  they 
take' care  of  their  flowers,  take  them  home  and  tell  their  parents  that 
they  have  helped  to  make  them. 

For  preparation,  practice  making  the  flowers,  choose  the  simplest 
form,  and  have  tissue  paper  cut  ready  for  use,  and  all  other  supplies 
necessary.  Each  child  should  have  a  little  bunch  of  flowers,  and  the 
thought  of  the  lesson  may  be  carried  out  by  telling  them  that  they 
can  help  to  make  father  and  mother  happy  by  working  hard  to  make 
pretty  things  to  take  home. 

SECOND  GRADE. 

NEEDLE  BOOK. 

Materials:  Pieces  of  pretty  cloth,  soft  in  texture,  Syi  inches  long 
by  4^  inches  wide. 

Pieces  of  white  flannel  4^2  inches  long  by  3^2  inches  wide. 

One  half  yard  for  each  needle  book,  of  narrow  ribbon  of  pretty 
contrasting  color. 

A  skein  of  zephyr  yarn  same  color  as  ribbon. 

Short  darning  needles,  one  for  each  child. 

Pieces  of  cardboard  5  by  4  inches. 

Directions  for  Making  Needle  Book:  The  cardboard  may  be 
rounded  or  otherwise  trimmed  to  give  a  dainty  shape  to  the  needle 
book.  The  cardboard  is  to  be  covered  with  the  cloth,  one  side  mav  be 
figured  and  one  plain,  the  edges  are  turned  in  and  basted  by  the  teacher, 
the  children  to  overhand,  two  pieces  each,  with  the  yarn.  The  teacher 
should  explain  the  use  of  the  needle  book,  and  that  the  pieces  of  flannel 
are  to  be  put  inside  the  covered  cardboard  pieces  and  tied  up  with 
ribbon  at  the  next  Busy  Hour.  The  covered  cardboards  must  be  taken 
care  of  by  the  teacher.    They  should  be  wrapped  in  paper  with  name 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  701 

(»f  child  on  the  outside.     Directions  for  completing  the  work  will  be 
j[(iven  next  month. 

Suggestions  for  the  Lesson:  Be  particular  about  doing  good 
work,  use  the  thought  in  the  lesson  about  the  influence  of  character. 
Help  the  children  to  feel  that  the  kind  of  work  they  do  will  tell  the 
kind  of  children  they  are.  Suggest  that  when  they  have  learned  how, 
they  may  make  a  needle  book  for  mother  or  some  other  dear  one. 

THIRD  GRADE. 

SEWING   BAG   OR    BOX   AND   DOLL    HOUSE. 

GIRLS. 

Text  Book:     When  Mother  Lets  Us  Sew,  pages  3  and  23. 
Materials: 

Soft  material  for  bag ;  or, 

Cardboard  to  make  box  ;  or, 

A  good  shoe  box  with  good  cover. 

Suggestiofis  for  Making,  If  it  is  decided  to  make  a  holder  for  the 
sewing  supplies  make  arrangements  for  pattern,  and  materials  enough 
for  each  child.  Make  the  form  chosen  and  put  in  a  complete  set  of  sew- 
ing supplies  to  show  the  children.  If  you  plan  to  use  the  shoe  box  it 
will  give  a  little  more  time  for  other  things.  But  whichever  you  decide 
to  do  have  *^'*  names  of  the  children  marked  plainly  on  each  bag  or 
box  so  that  there  need  be  no  confusion  about  ownership. 

The  pattern  for  bag  should  be  the  simplest  form  and  for  box  use 
square  box  as  described  in  The  Children's  Friend,  volume  12,  page 
116,  (February  number). 

If  the  shoe  box  is  used  arrange  to  begin  Bib  or  make  a  needle  book, 
sec  First  Grade,  to  put  in  it  and  have  the  children  bring  needle,  etc., 
see  page  23. 

Suggestions  for  the  Lesson.  Read  the  ''Introductory"  on  page  3 
and  adapt  to  the  class.  Keep  in  mind  the  lesson  thought  and  help  the 
children  to  understand  that  good  work  brings  good  results ;  notice  what 
Smiles  says  about  the  best  sort  of  character,  page  22,  The  thought  of 
the  growth  of  character  is  founded  on  the  kind  of  work  we  do  as  well 
as  in  the  doing  of  kindly  deeds. 

BOYS. 

Materials, 

Four  strong  cardboard  boxes,  glue  and  paint;  or,  three  wooden 
boxes,  hammer,  nails,  saw,  paint  and  paper. 

Suggestio7is  for  Making.  It  will,  perhaps,  be  advisable  for  the 
teacher  to  have  the  materials  for  one  house ;  let  the  children  help  in  the 
planning  and  doing  and  then  make  a  similar  one  at  home.  This  plan  is 
suggested  for  the  reason  that  there  may  be  difficulty  in  getting  enough 
material  for  all  the  boys  at  the  time  of  meeting. 


702  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

For  the  cardboard  boxes  select  four  of  equal  size,  as  strong  as  ob- 
tainable, and  of  a  kind  that  all  the  boys  can  get  without  much  difficulty. 
See  that  insides  are  clean  and  smooth.  Spread  a  thick  paste  of  glue 
over  the  outside  surface  of  one  end  of  a  box,  fit  end  of  second  box  to 
the  glued  surface  and  set  to  one  side.  Repeat  same  with  other  two 
boxes.  Cover  upper  outside  surface  of  first  two  boxes  with  thick  coat 
of  glue  and  set  second  pair  on  top  of  first.  Now  there  should  be  four 
divisions  or  two  rooms  upstairs  and  two  rooms  downstairs.  Oil  paints, 
such  as  come  already  mixed,  may  be  used  to  paint  exterior  of  house. 
Let  the  children  choose  color  for  their  own  house.  Remnants  of  wall 
paper  may  be  used  for  walls  and  ceilings. 

For  the  wooden  house  soap  boxes  are  very  useful  and  usually  easy 
to  obtain.  Place  one  upon  the  other  and  you  have  the  upper  and  lower 
floor.  Partitions  may  be  made  of  cardboard.  The  third  box  is  for  the 
roof.  It  should  be  placed  on  top  of  upper  floor,  using  two  sides,  so 
that  the  sides  slant.  Make  it  fit  by  sawing  oflF  all  that  needs  to  be  re- 
moved. When  fitted,  nail  strongly  in  place.  The  exterior  may  be 
painted  and  interior  walls  covered  with  remnants  of  wall  paper  as  sug- 
gested for  cardboard  house. 

Suggestions  for  Lesson.  Before  beginning  work  outline  plan  for 
the  year  and  announce  that  all  the  houses  are  to  be  placed  on  exhibition 
when  completed.  Have  in  mind  what  Smiles  says  about  the  value  of 
good  work  in  the  making  of  good  character  and  that  every  house  will 
represent  the  character  of  the  maker. 

FOURTH  GRADE. 

FIRE  BUILDING  AND  A  WHISTLE  CHAIN. 

Text  P>ooks :  The  Child  Housekeeper,  and  Occupations  for  Little 
Fingers. 

GIRLS. 

The  instructions  for  the  lesson  are  so  complete  in  the  text  book  it 
will  not  be  necessary  to  add  anything  only  to  suggest  that  the  teacher 
adapt  the  lesson  to  the  class  and  the  conditions  in  the  ward.  Make  the 
match-scratcher  as  suggested  on  page  18.  • 

BOYS. 

Read  the  preface  and  introductory  note  and  talk  about  materials  in 
Occupations  for  Little  Fingers.  Have  the  materials  all  ready  and  each 
boy  should  go  home  with  a  nice  chain.  If  the  boys  do  not  have  whistles 
the  chain  may  be  used  for  knife  or  some  other  useful  thing  which  boys 
usually  own. 

Suggestions  for  the  Lesson.  As  the  work  progresses  make  oppor- 
tunity to  tell  why  good  work  helps  to  make  good  character.  Use  some 
of  Smiles  arguments  in  your  own  words. 


THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND.  703 

FIFTH  GRADE. 

« 

TWINE  BAG.      BEAD  CHAIN.      PLANT  BOX.      WOOD  CHOPPING. 

Text  Books:  How  to  Make  Baskets,  or  Occupations  for  Little 
Hands.     Box  Furniture. 

GIRLS. 

The  directions  for  making  bag  will  be  found  in  How  to  Make 
Baskets,  page  15;  for  making  chain,  in  Occupations  for  Little  Fingers, 
page  86.  These  directions  are  so  complete  it  will  not  be  necessary  to 
enlarge  upon  them  only  to  urge  the  preparation  of  the  teachers  and  that 
all  necessary  supplies  be  ready  before  the  beginning  of  the  Hour. 

BOYS. 

The  directions  for  making  of  a  plant  box  are  fully  given  in  Box 
Furniture,  page  13. 

If  it  is  preferred  to  have  the  wood-chopping  the  following  direc- 
tions should  be  observed : 

Obtain,  if  possible,  assistance  through  the  Bishopric  of  a  good 
man  who  will  help  to  gather  wood  to  be  chopped  and  tools  with  which 
to  do  the  work.  The  boys  should  be  assigned  to  different  tasks,  such 
as  measuring,  sawing,  chopping  and  piling.  All  work  should  be  done 
in  order  and  when  completed  all  litter  cleaned  up  thoroughly.  The 
Bishopric  should  be  consulted  as  to  the  best  way  in  which  to  dispose 
of  chopped  wood. 

Suggestions  for  Lesson.  Whichever  work  is  agreed  upon  the 
teachers  should  remember  that  the  spirit  in  which  the  work  is  done  is 
the  important  thing.  The  work  is  to  be  well  done,  so  that  it  wrll  reflect 
credit  upon  the  boys  and  girls.  Then  they  must  be  doing  for  some 
one  other  than  themselves.  Read  again  what  Smiles  says  about  the 
humble  duties,  and  whenever  it  is  opportune  impress  the  good  thoughts 
with  the  work.  * 

LESSON  FOUR. 

The  Rocial  Hour. 

Suggestions  for  the'  Teacher.  This  period  should  include  the 
memory  work  and  some  suggestions  of  the  subject  for  the  month.  The 
social  is  planned  to  accomplish  results  and  is  of  equal  importance  with 
the  other  periods  in  giving  opportunity  for  character  development. 
For  the  benefit  of  some  associations  where  it  is  impossible  to  have 
games  and  dancing  an  alternate  program  will  be  suggested. 

Remember  that  order,  courtesy  and  respect  for  persons  and  places 
must  be  observed.  If  the  place  of  meeting  needs  to  be  prepared  for  the 
Social  Hour  make  arrangements  for  the  older  children  to  help  to  get 
ready,  and  for  all  the  grades  at  the  end  of  the  exercises  to  leave  the 
house,  if  possible,  in  better  condition  than  it  was  in  the  beginning. 


704  THE  CHILDREN'S  FRIEND. 

^^take  a  special  point  of  personal  interest.  Every  child  who  helps  t 
beautify  and  preserve  the  ward  houses  will  have  increased  his  respci 
for  such  places. . 

The  teachers  should  know  the  dances  and  have  played  the  ganu 
which  are  to  be  used  and  know  where  the  opportunity  comes  to  in 
press  the  value  of  the  lesson  to  be  taught. 

The  dances  and  games  may  be  given  in  groups  or  by  the  who! 
association. 

Preliminary  Music. 

Prayer. 

Games.  "Fox  and  Goose  Chase,"  ''Black  and  White,"  and  **Cent( 
Ball,"  as  taught  in  Primary  Teachers*  Course. 

''Follow  the  Leader"  and  "London  Bridge"  from  Games  for  tr 
Playground,  pages  89  and  278. 

The  simpler  games  should  be  given  to  the  younger  children. 

Dances.-   "Dainty  Step"  and  "Swedish  Folk  Dance"  as  taught 
Primary  Teachers'  Class. 

"Social  Game,"  from  Old  and  New  Singing  Games. 

The  songs,  memory  gems  and  poems  which  have  been  used  durir 
the  month  should  be  given  between  games  and  dances. 

Games  and  dances  may  be  reviewed,  or  if  the  teachers  are  famili 
with  some  not  recommended  they  may  be  given  in  place  of  the  on 
named. 

Singing. 

Benediction, 

For  alternate  program  in  place  of  games  and  dances  the  followii 
is  suggested,  in  addition  to  songs  and  memory  work:     , 
For  older  children : 

Paper  by  boy,  "The  Man  I  Most  Admire." 

Paper  by  girl,  "The  Woman  I  Most  Admire." 
For  younger  children : 

Dramatization  of  one  of  the  stories  used  during  the  month. 

For  all :     Singing  practice. 


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